It has been a year now since I was able to accompany my father on his final journey.
In September the doctors had already discovered two brain tumors and
made us understand that a complete cure was not possible. Within
Three days later I gave up my room in the student residence, paused my studies in
Austria and returned to Germany.
For me it was clear that I wanted to be with my parents for the coming time and for
For me, impressive months began. My father underwent surgery and radiation,
but the tumors grew again.
One evening he pressed my head to his chest and said: “Don’t be sad. There is
so many people who are worse off than me.” This moment left a lasting impression on me
unbelievable, because at that time he was already blind, paralyzed on one side and
also suffered from epilepsy.
I witnessed the love of my parents - but not only me, but also the
Nurses and the palliative care team. My father stroked the hand and cheek
my mother whenever possible. He told her again and again how much he loved her and
how pretty she is.
When I asked my father which place he liked best, he replied
me with a smile: "At home with the family." My father had visited over 50 countries
traveled and experienced incredible adventures in Asia, but he still loved to
Home. When he was in the presence of my mother and me in the bedroom for the last time
exhaled, I thought of his special relationship with a monastery. Not
only for the monks of this monastery - including my father - death was not a
became an enemy. Death was seen as a brother whom he did not fight, but
respectfully embraced and accepted.
