Three wonderful women have died, all far too soon. Her demise is probably not surprising, so no need to rant, but it's disturbing. Still, if you ask me, everything will be fine, my child.
Of course, people die every day, for many reasons. People are old, sick, their time is up, and nothing can comfort their loved ones. That's life, we were born to die, some sooner, some later. And yet I've developed a certain fear of turning on my cell phone in the morning because I might hear news about the much too early death of a person who, for whatever reason, I thought was good. Almost every four days this year has already provided such a moment, I hope that's enough for now. With the death of Jeff Beck, there is even a prominent death every three days.
This reminds me of 2016 when David Bowie, Prince and George Michael died. Three musical heroes, and some will now cry out that you can't really compare them. Götz George and Roger Willemsen also died that year. And that's not all of them. As if there is anything to compare in dying. But with Rosi Mittermaier, Tatjana Patitz and Lisa Marie Presley three women died, about whom one - I - wanted to hear and read a lot more, to whom one would have given more life. A likeable, down-to-earth ski heroine, a beautiful, mysterious model, and the daughter of the King of Rock 'n' Roll.
I can't comment on whether her son's suicide just two years ago might have contributed to Lisa Marie Presley's death. There's no question that a mother is broken when her child dies, the question of how to move on, except of course, and I guess it was the same with Lisa Marie, wanting to be there for the other children is beyond my imagination . It is comforting that all three women have led exceptional lives, each in their own way, but it does not take comfort away from the fact that their deaths came too soon. At 54, 56 and 72.
Today, on a Friday the 13th, I am writing with a view of a Bavarian lake and I know that I am a lucky boy. I enjoy every moment, don't take anything for granted. I have learned that time is precious. I've wasted way too much time before. But that's okay too, because when you're young you don't think about death at best, that's the way it's supposed to be. At 20, mid-50s is so far away, early 70s is hard to imagine. Nature arranged it so that, even when we are very sad, we can somehow metabolize the death of our grandparents.
That of the parents later - hopefully we are grown up and mature ourselves, have been able to spend a lot of time with them - also, even if it becomes more difficult then to have to accept that we are now "the eldest". If things go well, we have eliminated all ambiguities, closed old wounds, can show understanding for the others, older people and have forgiven what was to be forgiven. In the very best case, we too were forgiven - stupidity, arrogance, hubris, speechlessness.
What gets me most excited, if you disregard the real problems of this world such as war in Europe, climate catastrophes and political incompetence à la Lambrecht in your own country: Harry. I seriously wonder if the young man is externally controlled. And yet I don't want to presume to really judge the reasons that must have brought him to his toddler behavior (sorry to all toddlers!).
But: My brother can certainly sing a song about being the second born. 'Cause I'm the first At least according to the calendar. Whether I always acted like the number 1 afterwards, I dare to doubt. What is certain is that my brother did many things better and more correctly than I did. That's logical, because he could watch me fail from the start. Could learn how to win over parents, how to talk to girls, how to get Mom to do the homework. Don't get me wrong, I love my little brother who luckily is taller than me. But of course everyone has their role.
I'm the first one, he's the second, you can't shake it. He had to put up with mental and physical cruelty on my part. For example, when he once asked if I thought he would grow, he was 12, I was 15, and I said coldly, "I'm afraid not." I was just confirmed, I was huge, all the boys were smaller, I was a teenager, that's how it is, one arm grows faster than the other and, above all, faster than the brain, but we have to get through it. My brother then quickly became a teenager too, he got huge, that is, normal height, and everything was fine. We scratched, pushed, bit, and fought all the time. But we always got along with each other, especially when we wanted to come up against our parents. Two against two. No one was allowed to speak badly of my brother, except me, and we've always stuck together ever since.
I'm really glad that he's not the type for memoirs in which he can now accuse me of something, because we don't have to fight over a crown, nor locks, nor an inhuman fortune, I still have the impression today that we have everything share very well. Even the not so nice things in life. We then try to relieve each other and do what the other doesn't like to do or can't do. We spend Christmas and also voluntarily time together, our children have played together, go to school together or go out together.
Did I suffer injuries? minor. The realization that my brother would just take my mother's car and drive away, while I had to submit a written application two weeks in advance, explaining every scratch. Did that do me any harm? No? Did my brother suffer any harm? Not visible. And of course, if asked, he would say, yes, of course, I suffered so much from you, but he would laugh and it would be clear: everything is fine. And by the time I turn 60 before him at the latest, the world will be back to normal anyway...
We perceived families that argue as broken and unattractive. In our family we also quarreled, but we made up. My parents didn't speak to me for a year, but luckily my mother put an end to this situation. We all apologized to each other, emotions were running high. Emotions - they come in bad and good.
Back to Henry Charles Albert David. Yes, he lost his mother. This is awful and life changing like nothing else in the world. It's been over 25 years. It would have been so desirable that he could have found each other in the meantime, and it seemed a long time coming. After all the antics that only non-heirs to the throne can indulge in - wild drinking, scuffles, snogging - one got the impression that there was a time when he formed a formidable trio with his brother and sister-in-law. Until Meghan came.
She brought everything out of order. If someone hadn't told me back then that she was PoC, I wouldn't have noticed right away. If someone had told me at the time that she was a particularly gifted actress, I wouldn't have noticed either, because her only notable role in the TV series "Suits" passed me by. And if she wasn't constantly talking about what an avid feminist she is, I would have missed that, too.
It doesn't matter, the couple is rich now, reconciliation with the rest of the family seems out of the question, they have gambled away everything there is to gamble away. Your kids aren't going to grow up with their cousins, not with grandpa and his wife, and some are going to be okay with that, because they all have royal marbles, but God help those kids if one day they read their dad's memoir read: About frozen penises, sex escapades, bitterness and a mother who tried to build her fame on the pity of others. Nobody in their right mind does that to their children.
Last week, by divine intervention, I was able to meet Charlotte Knobloch for a short time, and I just had to say that I admire her. She was very handsome in her 90s, short but erect, very chic, the speech she had given just before was full of passion, wit, strength and hope. She was extremely kind to me and I almost felt as if a minister had patted my head and said, "If you ask me, my child, everything will be fine." She certainly hadn't stolen this line of text from Peter Fox, she spoke out of conviction. I now go to bed every night with this mantra and am happy when I wake up and am still there in the morning. I wish you a wonderful weekend with your loved ones.
