The Wall Crossers

Dec 1972 - The Tragic Love of Florian

Florian's perspective – near Brussels, Belgium

I admit—I am still in love with her, this girl from the village of Offenburg (Germany), even though she left us several months ago, left for good so it would seem. She is like a daughter to my aunt, and thus you could argue she was like my cousin, nevertheless, she had no real blood ties to our family. When I heard she and Aunt were to move in with us, so we would all help with her... condition, her needs, I was overjoyed, to be a part of assisting them in this way. My father loves his sister, and the girl she brought with her to us, aged 23 by now (I am 25), we welcomed into our home with compassion and full acceptance, into our open arms and into our very significant resources.

She had been through so much loss... just before coming to us. Some truly terrible experiences. I was there for her. I dedicated myself to helping her get through the situation she was in, her recovery... and... being a strong support for what we had hoped might be her new beginning? She always could depend on me during her too-short stay. But then... I began to have feelings for her. I fully realized, however, that a love, together... it could never be for us, her... inclinations, being decidedly never to be with men.

I strongly resemble my mother—hair of russet gold, dark brown eyes that delight in showing mirth and joy, open face soft yet well-defined with modest pleasing features, sturdy frame and strong, but only seventy-seven kg (170 pounds), high energy, long slender fingers, small feet for a man, never given to temper. I inherited much from Mother, and so am always willing to give much, and she would be no exception—I was willing to give her my all. I ignored my good sense and followed my heart and opened the door to a loss I should have known from the beginning would come—Ja, I realized after a short time that I loved her. I still do.

I adored so much those tender moments when she would blink her amber eyes slowly at mine, in that mesmerizing way only she could do. I am not given to hypnosis of any sort, unmoved by mental craftiness, so I responded, from her seemingly telepathic abilities, in a way that only made me feel happier, not driven to act in any directed way at all. Her silky brown hair, strong fingers for one who seems dainty at first, her endurance, high intellect, her warm smile, humor, talent with words, poems, writing—I love all these. I surely did. I was her audience, and I do believe she loved that. I know she did.

If she cared for me as only a sister might do, that was love enough for me and I was content to share our lives—if only for such a little while.

Yes, she was well-cared for, by me, and my father, who is my aunt's brother, for those few months. And although I most surely did fall in love, it was always fitting, seemly, proper, and solicitous toward this girl whose mere presence was enough to give me even more satisfaction than any wish I may have had for an enduring love in return. I treated her with great respect and, as her condition further advanced, I served almost as a husband companion, though, again, without regard to any unbecoming desire for romance of any sort for my own sake. We never even kissed, well, I mean in a way you might term fervid lust. It is not that I am a non-impassioned man. No, that would not be the truth at all! It is rather that I place premium on consideration for others, this higher than any vitiated, debased needs of my own—I was able to sublimate these to her clear wishes, prerequisites, and her intimated hopes her eyes and words and language of body conveyed to me, as far as I could meet them, and generally, I can say I did meet the most of them, except for physical love. If she had the need for seksuele liefde (sexual love), she never showed it, and again, such life's affections for her were never aimed toward men. We had known this since the very beginning of her stay with us.

But I did, I do, love her so much. I miss her terribly.

This wonderful girl eased my loneliness, a lovely consequence of her timely arrival into my life. Since my mother, Lilly, had passed away almost one year ago, sinking me into a despair quite deep, and though I occupied myself fully with the substantial Foundation her legacy bequeathed, and with matters of community improvements and projects of higher order that only we could undertake as a result of these plentiful resources inherited from family legacy, still the arrival of my aunt and her vivaciously beautiful charge soothed my life like never before and certainly not since before Mother's death had I been so utterly happy.