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#75997 - 06/02/03 01:04 AM a small part of my storyTHIS IS NOT HOME
KleinerSpatz Offline
Junior Member

Registered: 05/12/03
Posts: 15
Loc: BRD


It must have been 1977 or 1978 from what year i have my first clear memories. I rememebr my mother and father fighting, throwing stuff around the house. I was scared, I didnít like it when they shouted. I remember being hungry and cold.
I also remember the door slamming. My mom had left.
Now it was just me and my dad.
I was in trouble. I didnít like him, he was smelly and he hit me sometimes. But most of the time he would leave me alone. Then I would go out and play on the grass in the center of our appartment block. There were always other kids there, and their moms. I liked it there, they were always kind, sometimes they would take me home with them, just a few doors away, wash me and feed me. then they would go with me to my house to ring the doorbell. Sometimes my dad would not open. They said he was very tired, and I went with them and sleep somewhere. They said my dad was tired, but he only sat down and drank, not like the other kids dads, they had cool jobs. One even was a firefighter. I liked him a lot, he was a real nice guy.

I was rather somewhere else than at home, most of the other kids had toys, and playing was more fun. We never played at my house.

Most of the time I was at home though. My dad was sad or something, probably because my mom left. He only sat on the couch and drank, watching TV. Sometimes he would let me see my favorite show, a cartoon about a little bee, called Maya. (she was a bit of a rebel) Then my dad would have me sit close next to him, he would touch me. It was strange but I was so happy he noticed me. I ate every hug and kiss like a starving shark.
He wasnít so rough anymore, he would just touch me every day. He took off my clothes and kiss me all over, it was funny at first. I thought he was being a normal dad. I was put in a bath once at the neighbours house, and the dad of the boy nextdoor played with us too then.

One evening my dad said to me it was bedtime, he never did that before. Usually he just shouted to me to shut up or something. He picked me up and took me to my room, took my clothes off and tucked me in. I felt so good! He was doing real dad stuff now.
He said he would read me a story and then I should sleep. He sat on the bed and told a story, i canít remember what it was about, I just wondered what was going on.
He was taking off his clothes and came into my bed. He was doing all kinds of stuff, and I was so nervous I could not breathe. It hurt so much. I canít remember anything after that.

When I woke up I could not move without hurting. I cried.
It happened a few times.

1980 brought change.

There were two policemen at the door and a old woman.
One of them told my dad he did something wrong. They put handcuffs on him. The woman picked me up and told me it would be ok, she would take me to my grandfather.
I had a grandfather?

I had never seen my grandfather, he was a farmer. He had cows and goats. And he had a long grey beard. He was very quiet, he just messed up my hair and picked me up.
I liked him a lot.
He taught me how to milk and how to cut wood. I went to school, all was ok. I liked the country. Loads of stuff to do. He would call me ďKleiner SpatzĒ Little naughty lad. He always smiled.
Grandfather was alone. Grandmother died very long ago he said, in the war. Grandfather told me he had been in Russia in the war, he was wounded and was send home. He lost a leg but he said he was lucky. I didnít understand why that was lucky. I rather liked both my legs!
That night i had a terrible dream. I donít like stories about the war.


One day at school I had to go to the directors office, she told me that I couldnít go home because something had happened to my grandfather. A woman was there too, and she took me away from there to where I would live for a while, she said.

A few days later my Grandfather was burried. There were lots of people there. Most very old. One of them pushed me aside. I fell and cried.

There was a priest and there was a card with a picture of my grandfather as a young man.

Inside were a few words:

May you find your peace,

the long years of suffering are now over,

you will be missed.

After the service I was brought back to the place I would live now.

I didnít like it.

the rest as soon as I want to tell,


Die Gedanken sind Frei!

#75998 - 06/02/03 01:27 PM Re: a small part of my storyTHIS IS NOT HOME
Mike Church Offline
Moderator Emeritus
Registered: 01/23/03
Posts: 3439
Loc: Toronto, Canada
My brother Erich.

You have not deserved what has happened on your life. The only good thing, your grandfather, was taken from you so quickly. You must have very good memories of him to help you.

I have discovered your humanity in chat and it tells me that despite everything you are willing to trust here a msorg and that is gratifying to us who need trust so badly. I have a great deal of respect and affection for you erich.

Thanks for sharing; as difficult as it may have been for you.

Your brother Wolf






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