A brief chronicle of a tragedy, composed by a bystander

Caution, everyone, this family blog entry is a sad one. You might have heard that my sister-in-law Irmgard's brother Thomas died last week. I wrote this brief remembrance on Thursday night, before the funeral. I've decided to post it here because I want to share what we've been dealing with.

Today I set clothes out for tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow afternoon's going to be tricky, and I tried to prepare the boys for it during our lunch today. Tomorrow morning, the boys have school and the end of ski lessons, respectively. And after that, we have to hurry up to Reit im Winkl to take care of their cousins while their parents go to a funeral.

The cousins' uncle has died. Thomas Hörterer, Irmgard's older brother, died accidentaly of carbon monoxide poisoning. He had just turned 40 the day before. Thomas died in his apartment, while he was eating his dinner. As far as anyone can tell, he'd been grilling on the balcony, decided it was too cold outside, and brought the grill inside. He'd sat down, and had some meat, and part of a Breze, and there, eating his dinner, he just died. No one knew. On Sunday, his parents were worried. The door had been locked; they hadn't heard from Thomas, nor had they been able to reach him. They broke the window and opened the door, and from what I know of the story, found Thomas at his dinner table, in front of his plate.

Irmgard had been at the Deutsche Museum on Sunday. She found out on Sunday night. On Monday morning, she called me. I was at the Kindergarten with Vincent, waiting for the bus to ski lessons with him, so I was out longer than usual. She left a message, and when I listened to it, I just felt that something was wrong. She'd mentioned nothing, but it must have been something in her voice. Only I thought that it was probably something concerning Peter's very elderly grandmother. I called back, and the line was busy, so I left a message. She called later.

She said, „You know my brother Thomas, right?“

„Yeah, of course.“

„He's dead.“

She told me what happened to Thomas; she'd just found out the night before, and she was crying, too.

I can't begin to imagine how she feels. I can't imagine having to push those words out over my lips.

Thomas Hörterer was a good man. 'Bodenständig', as they say here – down to earth, and with a wry sense of humor. I did not know him well, but from our predictable encounters at the standard family functions – the birthday parties, the baptisms - I could tell he was a good soul. It's not every person from Reit im Winkl who makes an effort to actually converse with the American at the party (or other person with no savory Reit im Winkl gossip to dispatch), but he did. He possessed an unlikely worldliness for a person who spent most of his life in a little mountain town. And I will never forget the time he suggested to Peter and me – only half kidding, I think – that we'd chosen Vincent's name with Vince Neal of Motley Crue in mind. I genuinely liked Thomas. He exuded a quiet friendliness, and I appreciated that I never felt like he was judging me – again, not always the case here.

I was glad when Irmgard asked me to take care of Johannes and Stefan during the funeral. I'm glad that there's something I can do. I'm worried about tomorrow – I don't know what to expect; I don't know if the boys will be bereaved, unphased, or somewhere in between, and I've been trying to prepare Kilian and Vincent for the afternoon, too.

I told them about Thomas, as best I could, in a way that wouldn't frighten them. They can't really remember Thomas, but Kilian said that it was really sad. Vincent said that it was horrible that he died the day after his birthday, because he didn't even get to play with his things.

Tomorrow might be challenging for us, but it will be absolutely nothing in the face of the crushing sadness that Irmgard's family faces. So this is what I'll keep in mind, and just do the best I can to be there in any way that I can.