by Oliver Letz
“Are you going to stay around for some time?” Lilly Ann asked her mother a few days later at the breakfast table.
“I guess I will,” Lilly Grace said with an urgent undertone in her voice that made Lilly Ann look up, “Your grandfather is going to make his transition soon. I want to be there when he is ready.”
“I haven’t talked to him since the wedding,” Lilly Ann said surprised, “he isn’t ill or anything, is he?”
“No, no,” Lilly Grace shook her head and smiled, “you know how old he is, there is just not much desire for more life in him anymore. He told me yesterday that he had been ready for a long time but he was hanging in there because he did not want to miss your wedding. Now it seems that he is going to bask in that reverberation a little longer, but his time has certainly come.”
“I bet he can’t wait to get on that ride,” Lilly Ann said excited.
“You know, dear, he has been very happy and content for many years,” Lilly Grace contemplated, “it’s going to be more like, oops, so this is what it feels like rather than that big roller coaster high-flying ride that some folks have when they go.”
“What are my favorite girls up to?” Taylor put on the charm as he walked into the kitchen.
“Papa is going to make his transition soon,” Lilly Ann said cheerfully.
“He is going to do what?” Taylor was not quite sure he had understood her, “You mean he is going to die?”
“Mhm,” Lilly Ann nodded between bites from her buttered toast, “Mom says it can’t be long. Isn’t that exciting?”
“I’m not sure I understand your enthusiasm,” Taylor frowned, “I always enjoyed having the old man around.”
“Oh, everyone does,” Lilly Grace said, “but it is not up to us to decide for dad. He is slowly withdrawing his focus in this world and the promise of relaxing into the pure positive energy that he really is, entices him more than squeezing just a little bit more out of this lifetime.”
“I am still having a bit of trouble wrapping my brain around the idea that death is something predictable like walking through a door,” Taylor confessed, “For me it seems more like jumping into a dark hole with no idea what’s on the other end - if there is one at all. How can you be so certain of something that you really cannot know?”
“But you can,” Lilly Ann said unimpressed by Taylor’s doubt, “have you never had a conversation with one of your dead friends? I talk to grandma all the time. She is so funny, cracks me up every time.”
“How can you know that this is not just you imagination talking back and forth? Wouldn’t that feel exactly the same way?” Taylor did not give in so easily.
“Nah,” Lilly Ann replied confidently, “I know myself and I know grandma, the things she sometimes says definitely don’t come from my brain. I’m not that wise, but she always has been and still is.”
“You know John,” Lilly Grace offered her help, “whenever you think about someone you knew or even someone you just know of, who has gone back, their essence is immediately summoned to you. They are always willing and eager to communicate in whatever form you are able to understand. Sometimes you can receive answers to your questions as intuition or gut feeling, sometimes you might hear something in a song or in something someone else tells you that strikes a chord with you. Often times you might not even be aware of the question or the answer, but it is always given.”
“The thing you must remember in order to have a direct meaningful conversation is the fact that this person is not exactly the personality anymore that you might have known. By returning into the stream of pure positive energy they left behind all thoughts of resistance, be it doubt or fear or anger or grief. So, if your friend, who you want to contact, was on the pessimistic or angry side for most of his life, you might not recognize him right away. But if you remember the essence of that person and the reason why you were attracted to him in the first place you will very quickly recognize him and discover that they are as alive now as you are, maybe even more so.”
Taylor shook his head with raised eyebrows as he joined them at the breakfast table.
“I don’t know,” he said still skeptical, “all of this sounds a bit too weird for my taste. But, I’ll take your word for it, for right now anyway.”
He poured a cup of coffee and helped himself to a bite to eat.
“You don’t have to take our word for it,” Lilly Ann encouraged him, “we are going to visit papa after we are finished here. Wanna join us? I am sure he would be happy to see you too.”
Fritz Neuwirt was sitting in his favorite chair under the big oak tree in the guest garden of the Schwyzer House tavern waiting patiently for his guests to arrive.
“Hello, if it isn’t my favorite daughter and granddaughter,” he exclaimed as they walked through the gate, “John, it is so good to see you too.”
“Very funny papa,” Lilly Ann scolded the old man jokingly, “that’s a big compliment considering that I am your only granddaughter and mom is your only daughter,” she laughed.
“That is true,” Fritz admitted, “but you are my favorite granddaughter,” he emphasized winking his eyes at her.
“Good morning daddy,” Lilly Grace hugged her father and kissed him gently on the cheek, “I see you are soaking up some more sunshine - and Moonshine too it seems,” she added with a wink at the clear liquid in a shot glass on the table.
“Oh,” Fritz waved her off, “this is just a little sample from my last batch, came out really good too,” he grinned showing two healthy rows of pearly whites.
“Listen ladies,” Fritz said, “would the two of you be terribly inconvenienced if I had a word with John from man to man?”
“Of course not,” Lilly Grace answered, “we have some business at Sudbury anyway. Wanna meet back here for lunch in a couple of hours?”
“That would be nice,” said Taylor and waved them good-bye.
“Pull up a chair, John,” Fritz started, “wanna try my latest concoction too?”
“No thanks,” Taylor laughed, “it’s a little too early in the day for your lively spirit for me.”
“I guess it is,” Fritz joined into the laughter.
There was a moment of silence between the two men.
“You heard about my travel plans,” Fritz picked up the conversation, “haven’t you?”
“Yes I have,” Taylor answered, “and to be quite frank, I don’t get it. You are healthy and strong. You have a wonderful family surrounding you. You have a carefree life that most people could only wish for, and you are thinking of leaving all of this behind for the shaky prospect of - of what exactly?”
“Ah, I love your passion and your desire to understand, John,” Fritz patted the younger man’s arm, “when I look at you it is almost as if I looked in a mirror many years ago, so many questions, so much to figure out, so much to remember. Every day a new adventure, every day a small victory over boredom and mediocracy. Don’t you ever loose that, it is precious - priceless.”
Fritz sank back into his chair to catch his breath.
“You know what the difference between you and me is?” he asked without waiting for an answer, “You open your eyes in the morning and you see a blue sky that needs to be conquered, an old engine that needs to be fixed, an engineering concept that needs to be understood and improved upon, a philosophical idea that needs to be contemplated and expanded. There are endless challenges and endless satisfaction for you around every corner, and you go for it, grab it by the horns, own it and feel the delight in the process. Ah, ever expanding life itself, it doesn’t get better than that.”
Taylor nodded in agreement eager to hear the other part of the equation.
“When I wake up in the morning and open my eyes,” Fritz continued after a pensive second, “I want nothing more than to soar beyond the sky without the boundaries of gravity, I want to run with the wind without moving my legs, I want to drink sunlight itself and taste the glory of all-there-is. It is almost as if I
suddenly ran out of patience for,” he was searching for the right words, “I guess patience for time itself.”
Both men nodded their heads contemplating the words that had to be spoken before they could be understood.
“You know Fritz,” Taylor spoke first, “when I think of you, I keep forgetting that you have been around almost twice as long as I have. I can’t even begin to imagine the things you have seen and done. As much as I dislike the idea, but it is conceivable that at some point one can have his fill and be ready for something new. Maybe I am just selfishly opposing the idea of not being able to have our invigorating chats anymore.”
“Well, nothing wrong with that, my friend,” Fritz agreed, “You have no idea how lucky I count myself to have had you as my friend for the last year. Now that I think about it, you showing up, especially with the connection we had from my reports that brought you here, might have been the strongest reason for me to stick around for that long. I really got a kick out of seeing Lilly Ann get married, you know. I was always wondering how she would be able to find a man brave enough to walk by her side. She is quite a little hurricane sometimes, well, most of the time.” They both laughed knowingly.
“I just had a fabulous idea,” Fritz said with new fire in his eyes, “I am going to proof to you without any possibility of doubt, that we live on after we sign off here and that a direct and meaningful exchange of information and ideas between the two worlds is not only possible, but is the norm rather than the exception.”
“All right,” Taylor answered a bit skeptically, “You are on. What do I need to do to make this happen?”
“Nothing,” Fritz winked at him, “Just think of me once in a while. Remember our talks and the affection we feel for each other. I’m telling you, this is going to be so much fun.”
“Goodbye papa,” Lilly Ann hugged Fritz as they parted after having spent the afternoon together. They had enjoyed long talks of past times and plans for the future, of old friends and new family, of things long gone and things to come. The tone of his voice and the expression on his face continued to change. A soft glow had settled upon him and his words were directed as much inwards as they were addressing his visitors. His features seemed almost translucent and the touch of his skin felt like an afterthought to the person he once was.
They all said their goodbyes without drama or hesitation. Last words had been spoken, last tender gestures exchanged. The time had come to end this particular conversation, anticipating to pick up the next one right where they had left off. As the door to the garden closed behind them their hearts were filled with love and peace and faith and the undeniable knowing that all was well indeed.
There was no other way than for Fritz Neuwirt’s funeral to start and end at the Schwyzer House tavern. True to his wishes, his earthly shell had been cremated at the dawn of the new day, privately, with only his daughter and her husband present. After the quick and unceremonious procedure they had carefully placed his ashes into a porcelain urn and brought it to the Schwyzer House where they had put it up in his favorite spot under the tree. By noon a lively colorful crowd had gathered to pay their respects and to participate in Fritz Neuwirt’s last party. Beer and pretzels were being offered to the guests, one of the many traditions Fritz had brought from his native country. Hannah sat under the tree next to the urn and played Fritz’s favorite alpine tunes on her accordion and it seemed that it would not have taken long until the first bold souls would have started to dance to the music.
With the sun high in the sky Lilly Grace went to the tree and picked up the urn.
“Friends,” she demanded everyone’s attention, “Let’s give back to the earth what is hers.”
She cradled the urn in her arms and with Michael Angelo, Lilly Ann, Willie and Taylor at her side she led a procession of funeral guests out into the streets of Flugerton. At every street corner they would stop and gather around. The urn was handed from one to another and everyone took a handful of the ashes and released it into the wind while recalling their favorite personal memories of Fritz Neuwirt. Stop by stop his life was recounted, from the time when he left the old country in search of adventure and a better life, his passage on the freight ship that brought him to America, his adventures as a mail runner and package courier which eventually led him into the Ozark mountains, his first steps into a for him strange and foreign society, his courtship for Martha and his many contributions to the town and region throughout the years. Personal, private, funny, hilarious, profound and profane, just like the man himself the stories were offered to be remembered and repeated. Laughing and cheering and candid expressions of love and appreciation accompanied the tales. Heated humorous discussions erupted about trivial facts when memory served differing pictures to people who shared a common experience. Each one of them was eager to conjure up images and sounds as lifelike as possible to recreate a colorful picture for all others to remember.
Thus was the honoring of history in Flugerton. Stories of people, passed down through generations, meaningful only in the context of the ideas that lived on long after their bodies had perished.
That night at the tavern anyone would have been hard pressed to make out the difference to any other busy night. Food and drink were served in abundance and the conversations were lively and loud. People were obviously enjoying themselves and their company in this place that Fritz Neuwirt had built. The stories and jokes that were told that night had a common theme though. Somewhere in them, around them or associated with them was Fritz, having fun with them all over again.
As midnight drew closer Lilly Ann climbed up on one of the chairs and tapped her glass with the back of a knife. As the crowd turned towards her and calmed down a bit her clear voice was heard to the last place in the house.
“Grandpa says, ‘Hi’,” she said, “and he thanks you all for coming. He enjoyed all the stories that were being told about him, especially those that were made up. He says, he loves this town and its people. He appreciates every one of you for making his life a bit more special every day. He is having a lot of fun. Him and grandma are having a thing going again, whatever that means where they are now. He says that Abrahamster is all over the place goofing off wherever he goes. He loves the little fella more than ever. He promises that he will be around from time to time and that we should leave his rocking chair right where it is. Who knows who will need it next.”
She took a glass filled with the best schnapps in the house from a tray that was offered to her and lifted it high into the air.
“Here’s to you papa,” she said as she drank to the cheers of everyone around.
Lilly Ann stepped down from the chair and joined Taylor at their table.
“Do you have any idea what grandpa could have meant when he said, ‘Tell John to not forget our pact.’ What is that all about?” she asked with raised eyebrows.
Taylor just shook his head and laughed, “It’s nothing, really. When did he tell you about that?”
“Just before my little speech,” Lilly Ann said as if that was the most natural thing in the world.
“Oh,” Taylor just replied and slowly nodded his head.
Throughout the next months Taylor was known to frequently disappear into the woods on an almost invisible winding path, which led to a small crooked shed in the middle of nowhere. Without much contemplation he would tend to several tanks filled with mash of various fruits, nuts and grains. He would stir the brew, add sugar and spices, mix the content of certain varieties, taste and smell - and wait. He did not know how he knew, but he knew when the time was right to pile logs under the still and light the fires. He filled the copper kettle with the mash and waited in joyful anticipation for the spirit to rise, to be cooled off in the winding tubes and, in the end, to be filled into glass flasks and bottles that stood patiently on shelves all around the small room, awaiting the fulfillment of their purpose.
One sip from the magic potion was all the proof Taylor needed. He first smiled and then laughed o
ut loud, for what he tasted was nothing short of Fritz Neuwirt’s best. The old man had kept his word after all. The realization trickled slowly through Taylor’s being and warmed his soul to the core. If there was, as it seemed, life after death, why not enjoy life before death to the fullest and make the most out of it.
“That old dog,” Taylor said over and over, shaking his head, laughing with tears pouring down his cheeks, “Fritz, wherever you are, I know you can hear me. Thank you! With eternity and all at your disposal, I would have thought you had better things to do than to teach me new tricks. I sure do appreciate it, though.”
Taylor could have sworn that he heard the old man’s distinctive quiet laughter and his familiar voice, “What could be better than this, John? You are welcome, any time.”
Chapter 17: Let’s Get Fizzical
