She is not you

She looks like you did and she smiles the way you used too smile.

She moves like you: Always in a hurry.

She looks at me whit your eyes.

She loves the same old stories and we are singing the same songs as we used to sing.

She is soon as old as you was when you left us.

But she is really not you but another quite unique little girl who not yet can understand that the photos at my wall in not of her but of another girl. Dead since so many years. She is perhaps the child you could have had?


Angel- Hell no.

Your birthdays comes and passes but we do not celebrate them since you are not around anymore. Privies years I used to cry myself throu them in desperately greif.
Nowadays I enjoy my happiest memories. That much I own you.
Every time I want to I can close my eyes and see your laughing eyes before me. My hands remember every  details of your perfect little body and I still can feel your tiny arms around me. My whole body remembers you .The tenderness of your softly skin and these  unique smell of yours .Like flowers mixed with jasmine soap and  fully grown winter apples.
I mourning you whit a sadness so desparatly that it feels close to anger.

I do not just mourning over my little girl.

I miss the young women you never was allowed too be. The happy mother, the mature woman. The old lady sitting in the sun watching her grandchildren playing while se was complain over her bad knee. That old woman  the time had not allowed me to meet but she had still remembered me than and had been a part of me. None of thoose persons was allowed to live.
You took them all with you when you died.
I use to believe that somewhere out there  is a young man who you was meant to fall in love with. Some other woman gives birth to his children :
Those who should have been  yours and mine too as a grandmother.
And he does not even know about you.
That you once where.
He may had made you happy?
Just like your father made me.
But somewhere it may be another man out there who should have broken your hart?
Well it will just not be. We, your daddy and I are still here and as long as we live a big part of
you  lives in our memories and in our hearts. I am scared to be the last one of us to go cause when your daddy dies there are no one left for me to remember you together whit. They all are dead now.
I sometimes meet parents who have lost their children and promoted them into angels.
“Our little angel child”  they said with a special kind of voice.
It makes me so angry.
I understand their desperate need for some comfort but for me I do not like to fool myself.
Hell no you wanted to be an angel!
You loved and enjoyed  live and you lost it in a tragic and unnecessarily accident. Thath what not was allowed to happen happened and I do my time of my punishment every single day the rest of my life and I will have to pay on my gilt as long as I can breath.  MY loss is unbelievably hard but yours was complete.
You loosed the only live you ever had a chance to live.
If I had belived in a Gud I never would have forgiven him for that.
Your are shore no angel but a little box whith ashes inside my closet.
Times goes on and on : Faster and faster or so it seems.
Your birthdays comes and passes whit the same pain in my heart cause time did not mend every thing even if we tries to believe it does.

But you get used to that little sting in the heart and learn to live with it.

Every year you get a little more piece of resignation.

We have Christmas parties and  midsummer fiestas. Your sisters and brother whit their children fills the house with life and laughter, love and joy and make us a very happy family. Sometimes the whole house is like a sparkling fiesta. Christmas tree and a lot of presents . Children and pets are playing everywhere.

 Still I never miss you as much as then.


Thats way my home is dirty


paedophile father:My second letter

Late summer -96

Dear father!

Summer still out there but it is winter in my hart. I cant let go of you. Not quite yet. I feel more and more sure of what I will do. The very thing scaring me: Finding  my sisters and brothers and perhaps find out who I really am. Just for me and my children. I don’t have to think about your reaction anymore.

Do you remember another summer very ,very long ago?

I wrote you so many letters. Then I get lovely and well righted charming letter in return of that kind I received not before and not after. I vas ever so happy about your letters. That very summer get magic because of them! If you should try to remember something of all things that  little 14 years girl girl confirmed you in that letters:
Did they not make you just a little bit shamed?

Everything you wrote was lies and your kindly mails was just written to get  me  trapped so that you could show me  what you called a fathers love: It  was concentrated on one single thing. Your next sexual kick! 

Whenever I chose I can see that serious, pathetic little girl sitting in the room of some friend or in  someone’s old car. Many times I red and writhed my letters in any sleepy public library. You used post restante  like me  (as an homeless ) but in your case it had to do with your crime against my little sister : A sister I then did not know existed. Had the girl who was me funded out that this fatherly letters came from  a closed prison even she had reacted.

I was happy.

Now I would get a family at last at my fathers and his new  wife.
I remember being very nervous about if the wife would like me. Looking back on the girl who was me I can feel a little sting in my chest but more than this I feel irritated and  frustrated over her naiveté. 
That girl does not exist anymore.

Today I am another person. My hair starts turning grey and I am a grandmother witch feel realy good. The only thing that connected us is the fact that you are the father of us both.

Or was I would have to begin write now. 
I should liked very much too read some of that letter you wrote me  but thy all stayed at the police together with my dairy. Evidence they called them. But I am shore of that your letters was warm and happy: Just that kind of letter a lonely child wanted to read

I remember them reading parts from the letter at the court. It was a closed court but they could not keep the foster mother away. She waved with a tiny part of paper contained the advertise in the paper she once had read about me as a baby.
-Here it says that this child has healthy parents, she cried out.
-He ie not very healthy,she said pointing at you.
-I want compensation. 
I do remembe in that very moment you stand up  and confessed your guilt. I didn’t know   if it was for the sake of me being questioned or for the sake of you like a hope for an easier judgement? I did not kne  then and I do not know today.  Probably the last: You was always taking care of yourself first.

I don’t even remember where I slept during this trail. Probably in some sort of hotel for I could not be trusted. A child without an address.
In the pauses I saw you and your guards in the corridor outside the courtroom and I envied you your guards and your lawyer. Your face was the only one I could recognize among the strangers of grown up people.

You hade called my biological mother as a whiteness: Your defend would try to prove that you wasn’t my father after all. A useless try since you was  married to her at the time of my birth.  I was very thrilled over  having a chance to get at least a glance of this strange woman. But when she enter the room I could only see her neck: I  not existed in her world. Obvious she didn’t want me to be abele too recognise her.

Today I ask myself  if its really  cheaper to rape another mans child? 
The verdict becomes 4 ½ year in prison: that was hard for the time being but  considered that you was an ex convicted  and hade done the same thing with my baby sister. But It was not me who turned you in and I refused to witness against you.

What god should it do  me? The readed loud out of my dammed diary! 

It took me many years too be able to write diaries again. 

After the 2 days of trial the first act of you in my live was over. I stood there at the pavement and felt totally empty inside. What now?  Since I had nobody too ask this I had to think it over myself and I started my walk to the main driveway out of the small town. The truckers went my family. This guys provided me with possibilities too sleep on longer rotes and they gave me food and became my family like they used before I met you. 

Thou I don’t have access to your letters to me I am certain that it was very merry letters who lighted up the world for a lonely child for a while.

This time I am the writer but since you are gone I can write too you in my own terms. I never will have to consider anything about you any more.

God night pa. Sleep well.
Always your doughter


Break the rules,

Life is short, Break the rules,

Forgive quickly, Kiss slowly,

 Love truly,

 Laugh uncontrollably,

 And never regret anything that made you smile.

(I get this from a friend who told me to send it to my friends.)


Dogs and Cats


I want to go in but can I trust her?

Bellman , the bassethound , always had a great respect for our old cat lady and thou he not could know about it but hes instinkts was right.

Once upon a long time ago the house where crowded whit 2 big S:t Bernhard dogs, a little spaniel lady and 4 old  cat gents in their best age.

Then a tiny little kitten just went into the cellar and took the stairs up. She went straight to the sofa and choked the 2 cat oldies there and just jumped up.

The dogs were curios but when they tried to come near her she just scratched them over their noses.

We never found out from where she came but she staid buy us till she died 15 years later.

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Posted by on May 2, 2011 in My Pets


This dogs Barry and Bamse


was never looked upon as “pets” but as family members.

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Posted by on May 1, 2011 in My Pets