Cafe Hitch-hike

2022-06-20

Stillness with memories of a trickster

This entry will be part of my stillness, the one I dedicate to the passing of my friend Carlo. When I got the news that he passed away, I was still. It was like the brake just halted everything that happened in that moment. I couldn't keep on at that time. It was like I was forced to be still for a while, in my office (where I was when I got the news), and said and did nothing.

Today, Carlo had a very simple service near where he lived, in accordance to his wishes. His friend and neighbor Giancarlo was the only person who attended. He recorded the hearse arriving to the funeral facility and then Sinatra's "My Way" played. Carlo's basic casket was wheeled into the chapel with the music, and 4 men lifted it to the platform, and then it would be moved into the crematorium that would turn his body into ash. G. stopped recording once Carlo's casket, which remained closed, was up there.

I was asleep when it happened since it was the first service of the day (4 a.m. my time). I heard my phone ring (he used a particular app to reach me), but I did not pick it up. When I woke up a few hours later, I could barely get out of bed. I felt chest pains. Although I had pleasant dreams and enough sleep, it didn't take me long at all to figure out why I felt that way. My friend made his final transition from this life.

I could see it was that brake applied again. A part of me was exhausted from the loss, and I respected my body and psyche's signals, and decided to rest and think.

The silence had to be broken with an awful group project I'm on, so I signed in remotely to hash out awful details. At least I got to have the time I did to be with it.

I heard from Carlo's hospice care worker about these plans, and I had to relay them to Giancarlo because he never got the details. I was so glad G. could be there. I had my own ceremony to Carlo the day after he died, and I decided to do it again this evening. For some reason, I'm still wearing the black veil and shaw. I've never worn these for a funeral, it's a bit old school for us Yanks, but I did it because I knew Carlo appreciated some tradition.

There's so many questions I have about Carlo's choice of lifestyle. G. and I knew he was a very private and detached person. That obviously showed in the same manner he treated his death, like other aspects of it. I have so many questions about what made a person be this way, but I tried not to ask too much because these will likely go unanswered. I guess I felt bad that for whatever reason, he really only had his state-provided care workers, Giancarlo his neighbor, and I as those who would say goodbye. Perhaps he had his reasons, perhaps it's not for me to judge and perhaps some people don't want or need relations or people, I really don't know.

Giancarlo asked for my opinion about what to do for his ashes, and I suggested we take them to the sea. G. thought we could take them back to Germany, but I didn't recommend it. He loved his culture but rarely talked about his life there or the people he knew. I believe had hadn't been there in over 20 years. Carlo once joked to sprinkle his ashes over a brewery. Maybe we can find one next to the sea?

I was hesitant to return to England, but while I prayed the rosary for Carlo this evening, I had a thought that I had to. I've done these little services from my distance, but maybe it would be where he wouldn't be so alone in the final send-off into the great mystery.

Stillness. I see why people are still for deaths and births (if you're not American, hah). I couldn't even cry this time, I just served the spirit and memory of Carlo a sweet fruit wine, poured myself some, and thought about him and what he brought to my life... The sweetness of it, really. I had never met anyone who treated me like a lady. I laughed and groaned as I played "My Way" as I remembered his memory. I even dared to dispute his take on some of the lyrics; 'I called the shots,' and I had to dispute that since he was a man not afraid to argue. I laughed because of that European type of directness is something we don't quite see as much of here in the States.

But I sat there in front of his display and with the memories. That man was one of the tricksters that entered my life. I thought my life was going one way and I had these plans, and he was someone that disrupted those quite beautifully. He showed me a life and a world I never knew or at least wasn't accessible to me at all. I took it all, tripped over the disruption, and then made corrections. I felt terrible from the failures that happened soon after I met him but eventually changed course. The new course wasn't so bad at all. It led to me to my field, new places, and in a way, where I am now. Yes, Herr Carlo was one of my tricksters. Who the hell knows, it's likely that I was the same for him.

Trickster, yes, but one that wanted to stay by me. I guess we got to see each other through the disruptions we brought to each other's lives, and we each had our own choices of what we did with it.

This has been a truly unique experience on so many levels, and perhaps I'm only starting to see it. Maybe that is why I was called to do something with his ashes. There's more to see and experience, perhaps, even though Carlo isn't in this life.

downwind | upstream