Missing.
04. Mär 2026,
Missing — the act of missing someone or something — is anything but pleasant. The emotional rollercoaster only helps so much when it comes to dealing with the experience of missing someone.
And yet, the state and the very word "missing" carries a powerful statement within it.
A person was so important in someone's life that their absence leaves a terrible gap. A gap that cannot be closed.
When borders to a beloved country shut down, the mind quickly shifts its thinking and says: "I miss those places.»
When a person has to be reported missing, fear and uncertainty move in — will this person ever come back?
Missing is a word that comes fully and professionally equipped with bittersweet.
Today my sister Esther would have turned sixty-eight. Oh, what a fantastic, imaginative hippie celebration we could have made of her birthday. Or a decorated fairy-tale world, exactly the kind Esther would have felt at home in.
The last birthday we shared in person was March 4th, 2020. That was the last time I saw Esther alive.
She managed to squeeze out over a year as a bonus. Esther passed away on May 26th, 2021.
Back in March of 2020, COVID-19 was just lacing up its shoes, getting ready to introduce itself to the entire world — every country, every social class. And to threaten the people in it. A global deadly visit.
Esther was already weakened by her cancer.
She celebrated her birthday at home, always keeping a proper distance from others.
Esther had already established a wonderful alternative to the usual birthday fuss long before any of that.
The fourth day of March was her open-door day. Friends and family would drift in whenever they found the time.
The day was always filled with laughter, conversations, debates, and that warm, easy feeling of simply being together.
On March 4th, 2020, it was exactly the same. Or almost.
Yes, I miss Esther every now and then.
And yes, I wipe a few tears from my cheeks.
Because I miss our conversations so deeply.
But the stronger, overriding feeling is gratitude — that Esther was such an important part of my life.
That Esther leaves behind a wonderful husband and two extraordinary children. What a remarkable legacy.
But today, on her hypothetical sixty-eighth birthday, I raise a glass to Esther. To all the memories. To all the debates.
To all the creative moments. To all the fairy tales she told. To her book, "Wenn du nomol chunsch, denn chumm ich au nomol.»
And to the annual Fairy Trail Walk for Esther.
"Thank you, my lovely sister."
