I found a paperclip in the snow a few weeks ago, and have since puzzled how to tell its story. Unlike with all other clips, I know this one’s story, or at least the end of it. I found it in the snow, picked it up and turned to my brother and sister, who were with me. They smiled, and we knew what the story was. It will not get better by letting time pass by, so here it goes.
It all started with the unexpected death of my Opa shortly before Christmas. My sister and I had been driving down to Ingolstadt for the funeral; my brother flew in from the States. We were allowed to stay at my other grandma’s empty apartment, a big moment for siblings who rarely see each other more than once a year. Our parents were with our grieving Oma, and generally, my brother and I stood out very much with red shirts that we had thoughtlessly been wearing for the journey. The three of us took advantage of the apartment to find out about a possible birthday present and memories re-awaking for my grandma, and we ravaged through boxes and boxes of old photographs. On an old desk, in a room that we assume is empty most days of the year, everything remains as it has been for years – except that I took away the lamp a few years ago. As we were getting ready for the funeral with an old fur jacket, a black tie that belonged to my grandfather, who died 21 years ago, and…my brother’s belt that did not fit. In the end, we looked both adequate but splendid. Before leaving, Andy walked to the old desk and grabbed a rusty paper clip. He fastened his belt with it and we were ready to go.
The paperclip witnessed the funeral pass by, and the next thing we know is that it was lying on the snow near the cemetery’s exit. It must have fallen off when we left the grave and went back to the car. Opa’s car, that we had to push out of a heap of snow with six persons. We found it the next day, when Andy, Tanja and I decided to pay another visit to his grave and we found it covered in frozen flowers and snow, close to an open field and under a tree. In a small pile of snow, rusty, twisted, a memory.
It all started with the unexpected death of my Opa shortly before Christmas. My sister and I had been driving down to Ingolstadt for the funeral; my brother flew in from the States. We were allowed to stay at my other grandma’s empty apartment, a big moment for siblings who rarely see each other more than once a year. Our parents were with our grieving Oma, and generally, my brother and I stood out very much with red shirts that we had thoughtlessly been wearing for the journey. The three of us took advantage of the apartment to find out about a possible birthday present and memories re-awaking for my grandma, and we ravaged through boxes and boxes of old photographs. On an old desk, in a room that we assume is empty most days of the year, everything remains as it has been for years – except that I took away the lamp a few years ago. As we were getting ready for the funeral with an old fur jacket, a black tie that belonged to my grandfather, who died 21 years ago, and…my brother’s belt that did not fit. In the end, we looked both adequate but splendid. Before leaving, Andy walked to the old desk and grabbed a rusty paper clip. He fastened his belt with it and we were ready to go.
The paperclip witnessed the funeral pass by, and the next thing we know is that it was lying on the snow near the cemetery’s exit. It must have fallen off when we left the grave and went back to the car. Opa’s car, that we had to push out of a heap of snow with six persons. We found it the next day, when Andy, Tanja and I decided to pay another visit to his grave and we found it covered in frozen flowers and snow, close to an open field and under a tree. In a small pile of snow, rusty, twisted, a memory.
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