And what would Vinterboken be about?

Once you said you are becoming a ghost but now it feels it’s not you who is the ghost. It’s you who is being haunted by many invisible ghosts hidden behind words. Faceless people behind the comments in your blog. You read them. You think about them. You react. But it’s fighting windmills.

Words are not enough to make you feel better. Some make things even worse. Hugs, real ones, might do better. Silent hugs. No advice. No words at all. Something difficult to achieve in a blog comment space.

…

What do you write about when you don’t write your blog?  What are your stories like? What is the world you create with words? What is Vinterboken?

That’s what I keep wondering about when I’m in a bookshop. What would you write about? What is Kristian Gidlund, the writer, like?

That’s all for now… Take care and gör vad du vill! 

Katerina

The song sing

It’s freezing and I’m thinking of all the moments when I looked forward to something. 

Like when we were looking forward to finally finishing high school and thought the world was going to turn into one big party full of freedom. Like when that boy I had loved came to my door and knocked. Like when I finished a university degree. Like when I moved to Sweden. 

“Expectations never got me anywhere in my life” 

All those moments of success were followed by bitter disappointment. It might be that the most precious moments are in fact those when you look forward to something. The journey is the goal. 

Last year, in January, you played in Malmö and it was also freezing, I remember. But it didn’t matter. And when we were standing there waiting for your concert, when we were singing along with you, when we were dancing in the crowd afterwards, I remember thinking again “Something’s about to begin!“ 

And looking back it was true but that night was actually already the climax. A little concert in a club full of strangers, with insanely expensive beer that didn’t taste good, with really good songs playing until the late hours, with you walking through the crowd, drinking beer and talking to people. 

And it made me live. 

Only seven months after we achieved what we had been dreaming of for several years. We moved to Sweden. We came to Malmö with all the luggage and we waited for a taxi that didn’t come. Exhausted and a bit angry we looked at the internet and that was the moment when we found out your cancer was back.

Like a punch in the face. Like falling into cold water in today’s weather. Like somebody took away everything you had believed in.  One big dream that came true. One cold fact that took away the joy.

I cannot even imagine how hard this must have been for you. 

It hurts so much to read your blog. For that moment everything stops and all I see are the images you create with words. Your family. Your dream child. Birds. Love and pain. The bitterness that came with the worst betrayal life brought to you. Deep serious thoughts. Worries. Hope. Resignation. Anger. 

The precious moments when you live for something that is about to come. The disappointment that is often waiting there. Good things forever followed by the bad ones. The eternal fight. 

Fight.

Katerina

Its strength becomes mine

The same night. Dreams. A bad dream first. That kind you’re happy you wake up from. Then another one. A museum. We go there a lot although we don’t understand stuff. We like to watch. Yes, that’s actually the ultimate truth. And you are there. You and the band, spread in the museum, everyone looks at different things. You, walking in the hall, surprisingly dark hair.

“How come his hair is so dark?”

“It’s because it’s short now. But when it grows, it’s gonna be blonde again.“ she says. 

Why museum this night? Maybe because we were passing one on a bus, in search for a new life, the day before. “We’re gonna go there!“ she said. I agreed, as usual. We’ve been to many in Sweden. Never seen so many museums in our country. 

I wonder if you go to museums sometimes. What brings you to a museum. What does it mean to you who probably have more knowledge and opinions and interest than me. How long you stand there looking at something that catches your attention. How do you feel when you leave. How much you remember. 

On a train, reading the book about you. The book that made me cry. Thinking of you in a different light. Thinking of you as a fiction character again. It’s not you who talks in the book. It’s not your love story and still, it is. What would you think of the way you are there? I can’t stop thinking about it today. The real you, the you who wrote yesterday’s post to the blog, that’s a mystery. But in the book you’re the way you seem. 

Two books about Kristian now. One you have been writing for a long time. And the one someone else has written and I have read now. No real connection between them. No cooperation. The whole magic of it. There’s so much magic to life sometimes. The magic that makes you cry over the beauty and sadness of it. The dreams never quite separated from the reality. Luckily. 

Have you ever lived in a dream more than in reality? 

Katerina

Never

„In a room with both of your rivals you were always turning around“ There are two rivals to your body. Your cancer and your mind. The doctors know how to fight the former. It’s only up to you how to deal with the latter. And that must be fucking hard, the hardest part. Because doctors are among the people we believe most. I did, too. But now, looking back, I thing I was wrong. I made a mistake. I believed them. And she, she who fought so strong gave up the moment they told her she wouldn’t make it. Gave up and soon after was gone. But the change was sudden. She wasn’t dying until she was told she would. She was determined to fight, smiled every day, said she was feeling better and then she was told and all the energy was gone. Was it a mistake of the doctor to tell her, then? 

I was angry and seriously wanted to complain, officially, and now I don’t know. I don’t know because now I know your blog and see what you are going through, having been told. I see what you were able to say to people, I see how you are trying gently to prepare them for the worst. And that’s what she didn’t do. We were unprepared, I wasn’t ready for her to leave, completely lost. Shocked. 

Still, I believe you are entitled to the chance. If she had been given the chance, she might have been here now. The doctors are no Gods to say. They are scientists and sometimes very bad psychologists but it’s not up to them to decide who will live. 

I wonder if those dreams you talked about were your real dreams. Probably they were. I had a few strange dreams like those when I found out your cancer was back. I was always in a dangerous place. Somewhere high. I was afraid. Frightened. I knew now I could actually fall down and die. But I survived. In the dreams I survived. Every time I woke up I thought of you first. 

Don’t give up yet, Kristian.

Katerina

Staying ahead of the cold facts

This blog has been asleep for a while. But I’m gonna try to wake it up, just a bit, just as long as there’s something on my mind I’d like to convey. Because this blog is dedicated to you, Kristian, and it’s not like there’s nothing to say and it shouldn’t even look like it. 

I haven’t read some of your recent posts but I will from now on. And I will always try to give a comment on what you said. Maybe it’s useless. Maybe it’s gonna be just talking without actually being listened or read. But let’s say I need this. And it seems a lot of people do, too. They feel they should say something. Because every time I read what you write I feel like doing something, I want to say something even if it didn’t make any sense to you in particular. 

The last post you write, Steget fore kalla fakta, and also a few ones before made me wonder “Who the hell is he?” because I realized I had no idea. This might not be surprising to you. But the fact is, your face talks and your pure existence talks and I didn’t realize things aren’t what they seem. I thought I had a sort of idea of who you are but... 

No, I have no idea. In fact, I don’t think I personally know anyone like you. Your attitude towards your situation is something which makes me wonder all the time. What would I do? No, I wouldn’t be like you. That’s what I know. My life is different and so is my experience. My hopes and expectations are not like yours.

Still, I care what’s happening to you, I wanna know and I want it all for you. Why can’t you just have it? I believe you deserve it. I believe it’s in you. To do things right. To have life and write about it for the people who don’t.

You don’t really tell stories. Or at least not simple ones. You create images of who you are. Like pictures. Like a music video. It’s not a movie, it’s a feeling. I really like that.

You are also the kind of person who talks and is silent at the same time. Like two people in one. Because you don’t say it all. I couldn’t re-tell what you talk about in a few clear points. But you are capable of saying strong things. Things that surprise me. Things I would never tell to anyone. You say them. And remain a mystery in spite of that.

I am aware I probably wouldn’t agree with you on most things.  I know now that I will probably never get the chance to talk to you in person and see for myself who you are. But for now let me say I like you anyway and I want you to stay for how long life’s gonna be liveable.

 Katerina