The Llama On Christmas Eve

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…and all I could think of was that stupid llama.

When I was two years old, my dad left us and moved to Mackay. That’s somewhere on Australia’s east coast. On Christmas Eve, he just packed his shit and got the hell out. Mom never really talked to me about it. We went through some deep trouble over here while he was sunbathing in Australia. Well, I assumed that he was sunbathing…Because years ago I got the first and the last postcard he ever sent me (on Christmas Eve, what an irony!). It showed a picture of an ugly grinning llama that wore sneakers. He wrote: “Hey! There’s a lot of sunshine in Australia! Merry X-Mas, love daddy!” Nothing else, no address, nothing. I kept reading those lines over and over again, and, to be honest, I was quite astonished that I didn’t feel a thing. Not a thing! I wasn’t sad. Or even angry. I made myself believe that I could actually see his own face in the llama’s. I let the postcard lie around on purpose – for days – and hoped that it would get lost somewhere between all those papers we kept on the window sill. Certainly it got thrown away with the garbage eventually. I didn’t care. Honestly, I didn’t even have a clue what that guy looked like anymore, I just thought of the llama’s face.


I hated Christmas. I still do. And especially because I never had an intact family, it might be at least slightly understandable that I just wanted to sleep through the Christmas days. But I never actually had the chance… Because on Christmas Eve, everything, really everything – my whole life – changed. Well, I can’t talk about life anymore, because I died on Christmas Eve.


OK, it wasn’t a very exceptional death. It was slippery outside and I slid. I fell unluckily on a heap of bricks and broke my neck, just like that. Yeah it sucks. I know. Later I found out that I died immediately, no suffering. At first, I kinda reacted a little weird, because I wasn’t surprised or angry or anything about my death. It was ok. The only thing that was really bugging me was that I didn’t know beforehand that it would happen. It was really a waste to spend the last day of your life studying for a chemistry test. Had I known that I would die, I would have had a huge farewell party, said goodbye to everybody and all that. Well whatever, I can’t go back now!

My death is fine. It wasn’t a surprise – I knew exactly how it would be. After you die, the thing will happen that you believe will happen. You know what I mean? Oh yes, heaven definitely exists! If you think that when you die you’ll go to heaven where you sit on a cloud and angels fly around – sure! That’s what will happen! If you believe that after you die nothing would remain except a cold body and darkness darkness darkness, well, fine, go for it. But better choose something optimistic, for God’s sake!

Now you certainly wanna know what my death is like. Well, I have to admit that I got influenced by a certain Monsieur Sartre as far as the state of my death is concerned. The only of his books I ever read was abouth those two people who die through violence on the same day. Well, they actually meet in the world of the dead and fall in love with each other. They are something you would call ghosts. That means that they’re still there, I mean, we’re still there, but you living creatures can’t see us. We can’t taste or smell anything, but we can go where ever we want to and we see everything. We feel things, we sense things. Time doesn’t exist for us. Sometimes a day passes in the blink of an eye, sometimes it feels like a year. As far as I can remember, those two people from the story get the permission from a higher power to go back to the world of the living, but only for one single day. Only if they manage to indulge themselves in their love, giving in completely to one another,  would they be allowed to live on. The sad part is that during that day they only try to sort things out they didn’t manage to resolve before they died. They even try to avert their own deaths or prevent the country from a revolution. Yeah that kind of stuff. Since they failed in obtaining a whole new life through unconditional love, they meet again in the world of the dead, walking through the streets, staring at the oblivious living, those who don’t know that there is death all around them, in their beds, their cars, sitting next to them in the restaurants. The dead are watching them, deeply in pain and envy.

I feel a little bit like that. But I’m not desperate. I believe that my death is there to learn and understand what went wrong during my lifetime. I firmly believe that, as soon as I have learned enough about life, I will get another chance like those two from the book, you know. But at least I will try not to screw it up so stupidly.

What bugs me most is that my mom doesn’t know that I’m fine, really. I don’t need food, I’m never cold and so on. I’ve learned to watch more carefully and be happy about those little things I never noticed before. My death is fine, really, it’s OK. Well, sometimes I do get kinda sad, especially on Christmas. Then I usually walk home through the decorated streets. And every time I see my mother getting older and older and always being alone. She always has a piece of pizza in the oven on Christmas. Except that one time, when my dad came to visit her. On Christmas eve. He took her in his arms and she cried.

That’s weird … all I could think of was the llama.

Created: Jul 15, 2012

Tags: christmas time

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