Dear Peter

Your death came in a sudden and unexpected manner. We are overwhelmed with sorrow although we know that you parted peacefully, near the sea that you loved, and having your family by your side.

The memory of our childhood together, your difficult youth, made us specially happy for you when, in the USA, you met the love of your life in the person of Monica. You managed, with the help of Monica, to overcome all obstacles that came your way. You were successful in your work which, as you once told me, was also your greatest subject of interest, and which helped you build a foundation for your family. We have always admired you for that.

The birth of your son Mathias made you and us very proud and happy. You also showed a great interest in the well-being of your nephew Maxi and tried to be with him whenever possible. This helped make a special bond with Maxi which he will surely always remember and be grateful for.

Then, ten years ago, Fate dealt a great blow. Our lives were turned around. You endured the pain caused by the heavy stroke you suffered with patience and great courage, without losing your unique sense of humor. It was a very difficult time for all of us, specially for Monica and Mathias.

To you, dear Monica, we want to express our love and special thanks , that you stood by Peter in good and bad times and with your strength, was able to give Peter and Mathias every possible comfort and a continuing belief in the good side of life.

We kept in touch constantly despite our physical distance, and were, whenever possible, ready to help.

The dear Lord has called you now to his side, for a peaceful and happy place in Paradise.

Rest in peace dear Peter, watch over us with your watchful, loving, laughing eyes, and keep a place near you for us all.

We shall keep you always in our hearts and minds.

With unending love, your sister Doris,

Mama and Papa
Maxi and Horst.

.........................

Very quietly you left us
free to return to yourself
Death and a new Life full of love

It was on New Year's eve, almost two décades ago. We were celebrating with friends and family the passage of another year. After watching the fireworks by the seaside, we all, dressed in white, decided to jump the usual seven waves. In the midst of the turmoil Peter lost his balance and his new eyeglasses fell in the water. He had been proudly talking about how very satisfied he was with their style and quality and what a good investment he had made. A frenzied search started immediately; everyone joined the rescue party and for a good while the whole group searched for the glasses, in vain. We all went back to the house, opened more champagne bottles and the party continued thru the night. When we turned in to sleep, Peter was still looking for his glasses, lost in the bottom of the sea.

I have a vivid memory of this story. Of how much it told me of the personality of my brother-in-law, our differences and similarities, the greatest of which his love and infinite admiration for Mônica. Many times, coming out of the water here in Ubatuba, I used to scrape the sand, hoping for luck in finding those glasses, a present that would surely surprise him.

The day before yesterday we had a virtual meeting, Monica was filming from the chapel in South Carolina, and we watched Peter's body - his face had a tranquil expression, peaceful.

Yesterday we had yet another meeting, family and close friends, each one saying their prayers and wishes for Peter, Monica and Mathias, a beautiful communion.

Early today I went for a run and afterwards swam far out into the sea. I came back surfing a wave and, as soon as I stepped on the beach, right there beside me, I found some glasses partially buried in the sand, washed by the coming and going of the tide. They were different, dark, very dark, like the ones we use when facing a strong light.

Ubatuba, April 02, 2021

Era festa de réveillon, há quase duas décadas, e comemorávamos entre amigos e familiares mais uma passagem de ano. Depois de assistirmos a queima de fogos na beira do mar, fomos, todos de branco, pular as clássicas sete ondinhas. No meio do agito, Peter desequilibrou-se e deixou cair n'água seus óculos novos, sobre os quais havia várias vezes mencionado com orgulho a qualidade, o conforto, o estilo, o quanto valeram o investimento. Começou então uma frenética busca para encontrá-los; todos os que estavam em volta também se juntaram, e durante um bom tempo a turma empreendeu uma operação de resgate, em vão. Voltamos pra casa, abrimos novas champagnes, e a festa seguiu madrugada adentro. Quando fomos dormir, Peter ainda procurava os óculos, perdidos no fundo do mar.

Essa história ficou marcada na minha lembrança. O quanto aquilo me dizia da personalidade do meu cunhado, nossas diferenças e semelhanças, a maior delas o amor e admiração infinitos pela Mônica. Muitas vezes, aqui, ao sair do mar, eu dava umas raspadinhas com o pé no fundo, vai que dou sorte e encontro aqueles óculos, seria um presente inusitado que daria pra ele.

Anteontem fizemos um encontro virtual, Mônica filmando da capela na Carolina do Sul, e velamos o corpo de meu cunhado - seu rosto trazia uma expressão serena, de paz.

Ontem fizemos novo encontro, família e amigos próximos, e cada um entoou suas preces e desejos, numa linda comunhão.

Hoje cedo dei uma corrida na praia, nadei até a boia além da rebentação, voltei pegando uma onda, e, saindo do mar, ao meu lado, encontrei uns óculos parcialmente enterrados, lavados pelo vai e vem da maré. Diferente daqueles, eram escuros, bem escuros, dos que ajudam a enxergar diante de uma grande claridade.

Ubatuba, 02/04/21

Epitaph
by Merrit Malloy

When I die
Give what's left of me away
To children
And old men that wait to die
And if you need to cry
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you
And when you need me
Put your arms
Around anyone
And give them
What you need to give to me

I want to leave you something
Something better
Than words
Or sounds

Look for me
In the people I've known
Or loved
And if you cannot give me away
At least let me live on your eyes
And not on your mind

You can love me most
By letting
Hands touch hands
By letting
Bodies touch bodies
And by letting go
Of children
That need to be free

Love doesn't die
People do
So, when all that's left of me
Is love
Give me away

My Gardener
April 7th, 2021

Peter was a gardener
Even though he didn’t like to be called like that (he was a Landscape Architect!)
But first he was a gardener to me.
As such, he planted seeds where he passed.
He found fertile soil in people’s hearts
No matter who they were, as long as there was a connection, a common interest
He would plant his seed.

A seed of kindness, of genuine interest
(He never liked when people passed by and casually asked how his day or weekend was…he wanted to stop, so he could answer, and listen, and ask questions.)
He was very curious!

I was lucky I got to have one marriage and two husbands.
The charming, blue eyed, smart and talented tall guy I married 20 years ago
And the brave, funny, witty, compassionate and generous, larger than life man I lived with, in sickness and in health, for the past 10 years.

Because of him I became a stronger, better person. I pursued my dreams and challenged myself. I raised the son of our dreams, the star of our universe.

I get praised a lot for the strength and dedication I shared with the man I loved.
But it was on March 29th,
When he delicately, quietly, without a complaint, rested his head on the side of his chair
When I realized that, despite how loudly and selfishly I cried for him to return
That his bravest gesture, to end his suffering
To open the window to our future without pain
And to leave us with his wisdom and his appreciation for the beauty of life
It was then, that he showed us the full strength and beauty of his soul.

With Love.
Monica Rogozinski