Steam of Life Page #4

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It's so wrong.

- Well, it tears you apart.

Think about it:
You don't see your

child for example for 13 years!

How long has it been now?

Well, how long has it been...

I had just received

the Appellate Court order -

with all the visiting rights.

Not as extensive

as I had wanted...

As soon as

the court process was over -

and the decision was,

like 9 times out of 10 -

that the custody was taken

from the father.

Every other weekend

and one weekday, that's it.

Nothing else mattered.

As soon as the process was over,

the mother refused to give the child.

We were visiting grandma

for the last time with the girl, -

we played together -

when my ex just announced that

she won't allow visitations anymore.

This is now September,

I haven't seen or heard of her.

I don't even know

if they live here any more.

The authorities can't do anything

without court orders.

I should go to court and get an order

forcing her to let me see the child.

And of course,

family and friends miss her also.

Her godfather, grandmother

and everyone else.

They keep asking about her

and crying...

Her grandmother is getting old, -

she cried

if she will ever see Inka again.

I told her I don't know the answer.

I don't mind suffering,

but my girl is so young...

She's not yet three, -

she doesn't have

long-term memory yet.

I think my daughter doesn't remember

who her father is any more.

That really hurts.

If only I could hold her.

If she would run towards me

and jump into my arms.

"Let's go home

and see 0kku and Mikka."

I remember my grandpa,

when I was a little boy.

I used to walk to their place

and he'd be chopping wood.

Grandma was inside,

cooking, doing chores.

When grandma was in a bad mood,

grandpa would stop us -

and ask us:

"Is it still stormy in the South?"

He meant:

"Is your grandmother still angry?"

I asked grandpa how old

the oldest logs were in the shed.

He thought about it

and then said:
"11 years.''

Time passed.

Grandpa chopped wood -

and grandma was either

in a good or a bad mood.

Then grandpa got dementia

and had to go to a nursing home.

When we visited him,

we told him everyday news -

but he wasn't interested.

When we spent quiet time with him,

he would then ask -

where the end of the wood pile was, -

had it reached

the wall on the river side?

After four years grandpa found out

that his woodpile was running low.

He cried and apologized -

for not having chopped enough wood.

Afterwards, when I've thought about it, -

I realized -

that he wanted to chop enough wood -

to last until the end of grandmother's life.

That's when I realized -

how manifold love can be.

Pete, the oars are squeaking.

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