D E A T H, W R I T I N G & R E M E M B R A N C E
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Deleted from final copy; see 3
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"Write."-"For whom?"-"Write for the dead, for those in the past whom you love."-"Will they read me?"-"No!" An old saying slightly altered.
Revised in final copy; see 146:18
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My grandfather worked as a manager for a printing company. He always said that he lost everything during the war, and never had the strength to own very much after that. So he didn't really leave much in the way of heirlooms when he died. There was one mysterious box, marked "Blue Ink for Pens", which we were never allowed to see, and went with him to his grave. All I have of his is one well thumbed journal, with only a few undated entries. Most of them are pretty obscure. But this one, transcribed from his company's edition of Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling , always caught my attention, and almost made me believe the stories about the 39 leather bound volumes, hidden away or destroyed. We knew for sure he had a lot more to tell. I tried to ask him about the past, but he changed the subject. He only talked about it when he was drinking. But even then, it was hard to tell what was true , and what he just made up . A very quiet man when he was sober, he liked his solitude, but he could be congenial enough in company, as long as it wasn't asked of him too frequently.