in the aftermath of a death
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
At the end of the hour long memorial, my dad announced that the four brothers (himself, Horst, Wolf, and Ulli) would be returning to the house to 'sort out the legalities', and that everyone would be welcome to join for pizza and beer at six o'clock. This left us with six hours to kill. We decided we didn't want to be present at while the legalities got straightened out. So we went to St. Catharines.
Arriving in town, we headed down to Pt. Dalhousie and got some food and drinks at one of the many faceless restaurants that come and go with great regularity. We then went downtown and stocked up on some liquor. As we returned to the car with the booze, we passed a blues bar that had an act playing, despite the time (it was, by then, about 4 PM).
In Ontario, it's not legal to walk into a licensed establishment with your own alcohol for some reason, so we dumped off the bottles in the trunk (it's also not legal to drive around with booze at hand!), and returned to the bar. 90 minutes and three Jameson's on, we decided to get me some non-pizza food and return to the house.
Heidi had the excellent idea of getting some Thai. So we went back to the Thai place we'd always eaten at, in St. Catharines. Heidi wanted to try some appetizers, so she joined me when I went in to order.
The girl behind the counter took my order, then suggested that we head downstairs to play some pool while we waited. We'd been eating there for years, and never knew that they had a lounge! Heading downstairs, we found a well-appointed lounge with magazines, dart boards, a chess table, and the pool table. The balls were transparent, with the numbers on disks set into the middle.
I managed to sink a few shots, for the first time in several outings, but the game ended when the girl told us the food was ready. What a great idea.
We got back to the house, and found that the place was largely cleared out. All hints of paper and whatnot were already gone. The books were mostly in boxes, and even some of the food had been cleared out. It was really bleak without Oma's presence, and little sign that she'd ever been there.
Dad took us into what had been Opa's room, and showed us the handful of coins that were our inheritance. They mostly dated to around the years when Ken and I were born. There were a couple of gold coins and a number of silver. Our Opa's insurance against another currency collapse. He'd survived two as a younger man, so I couldn't blame him.
Dad had inherited the record player. He didn't want it. But mom had some records and nothing to play them on, so I told him I'd take it.
Dad also presented me with the Christmas gift from him and Renate, that he'd left there for me, but which had gone missing before I turned up on Christmas eve. It was an excellent travel photography book.
I also managed to get the rest of the wooden furniture that had been in the basement for twenty-odd years. Some of it was water damaged, and most of the chairs would need screws and glue if someone were ever to sit in them again. But I've got to start somewhere. I hope they're not too mouldy.