Today is the big day

Transfer day! 

But sadly, I've got other things on my mind.


I got an email that a former professor of mine died last night.  She was in the Ger.man program at Alab.ama (I have a Bachelor's and Master's degree in German). Still pretty young with two small children.  Her husband is a professor here too.  She was in a car accident. 

My heart is just aching for her children and husband.  One of the other professors posted a note about it on facebook and I thought it was just beautiful.  She says everything way more eloquently than I could (and English is her THIRD language!). 

Because I don't want to forget what she wrote I'm posting it here:

This afternoon we returned from a fantastic Blues harmonica event in the Mississippi Hill Country. As a non-harmonica player I mostly enjoyed meeting people from various paths of life - from the young couple from London quitting their jobs in order to travel and volunteer for five month while exploring the U.S., the lady from Arizona who about a decade ago traded in white river rafter for playing the harmonica when she turned fifty, because you can play harmonica “even in the wheelchair,” the Baroque music expert who flew over from Berlin for the long weekend, the great Billy Branch from Chicago talking about “cool cats” and playing even cooler tunes, the west coast guy who had lost his 28 year old daughter and told me about how his pain muted him for months made him also a more passionate and heartfelt player. In the end this is what the Blues is about. Oh believe me, I would so much rather write about our weekend in Mississippi, the occasional sad but mostly exhilarating moments. But how can I after what happened only a few hours later? It is a sleepless night, and the pain feels raw. My friend and colleague Ba.rbara Fi.scher died a few hours ago in a car accident. Many of you knew her, as a colleague, as a professor, as a friend, as a beautiful soul. At around 6 p.m. last night a motorcycle hit Bar.bara’s Volvo head-on, the young driver had lost control. He died, so did Ba.rbara. Katha.rina was with Barb.ara in the car and survived with minor injuries. This is why my heart is breaking today. I lost a friend and colleague. But two children have lost their mother, and their father has lost his wife and is left standing with shards of a once beautiful family. When I was five years old my own mother died. She did not pass away, she did not become an angel, you can make it sound as nice as you wish, for me she DIED. After a while others did not talk about her anymore, since they probably uneasy, it was anyway time to move on, oh how the death of others can bring out the innermost fear about our own mortality, so we recommend counseling, and then at some point declare that it is “time to move on.” But if you have seen the abyss, you know what I am talking about, it is not so simple. Your mother was ninety and you fifty when she died? It still hit you. It still hurts you. Maybe you do not even realize it at first. I used to say that it was good thing that I was only five – what utter and absolute nonsense. Only a few years ago I faced my memories, my uneasiness every Mothers Day when others visit or call their mothers, send cards, and tell happily about it. Tonight I feel again like a motherless child, because I ache for Kath.arina and Chris.topher who lost their mother. And my heart aches because I can only guess how terrible it must be for a mother to die and leave her young children behind. So, Barb.ara, I am promising you to keep your memory alive and share with your children my stories and memories about you so that they know how much we all loved you and that they are not alone when they are missing you. Regardless where we are, we can grieve together, and we can share stories about you. And we will not forget how precious every moment of our own life is and that we better live it to the fullest and enjoy it as best as we can. With many tears but even more love, Ras.ma.