Since I have my grandfather's memory is always dying. That is, not it's on death bed, on the contrary I have only once been convalescing. What I mean is that he expected to die every day. Yes, sitting there in your easy chair watching TV, the display is lit every day and every hour in which cartoons to watch from movies or soap operas cabaret. However, he is waiting. To be precise
today over breakfast we talked about death, about its imminence, perturbed about his character, about her safety.
Then I understood why I am so aware of my finiteness: I grew up with stories that ended in the early death of my grandfather.
many years have passed since I became aware of death after the grandmother vanished from this world. The crucial thing was when a few years ago I read Heidegger and understand my grandfather. What he does not know is that as a German said that repeating constantly, my grandfather does not know that I have read that German and are thousands of people treat it almost like an idol, that changed the history of German German philosophy and that also finally died as we all do.
My hope is to one day make it understandable for him talk about being for death and all that conceptualisation.
Although sometimes I have the assurance that he already knew in her eyes I perceive a hint of arrogance. Sometimes I look under your bed look out the deluxe version of Sein und Zeit.
