Thus the heading on the first of three sheets Paul Müller had prepared for our German lesson last Tuesday. On Wednesday he had a stroke, a second or third one in a row. He was taken to a hospital in Pula the next day. They have been doing their best to stabilize his condition before he could be transported to Germany, where he may be operated. Sadly, his condition is not too promising, though. But he will not be able to return to Motovun ever again. That much is certain, for the streets of our town are too steep and the cobblestones are too rough for a frail man of almost eighty. Deutsch 120 will thus never be. The familiar three sheets will not come my way ever again. After four years of studying with Paul, I will have to continue on my own. This is what I owe to our friendship of four years, at any rate.

Addendum I (August 25, 2007)

Although his mind seems to be working quite well, Paul is otherwise in a bad way. He is refusing to eat, most likely because he does not wish to mess up his bed. As he is getting intravenous food, and as he has a catheter attached to his head to drain the blood that has accumulated under the skull, he is also tied to the bed so as to keep all these attachments in place. Besides, he pulled them out several times, apparently on purpose. All this cannot last more than a few weeks, but yesterday I got a wonderful message from him via a friend who went to visit him. Paul wanted me to know that we will not have our German lesson next week, either. He was rather concerned about this hiatus in my progress, too. Now, that is a teacher to be proud of!

Addendum II (September 7, 2007)

The news of Paul’s death reached Motovun only today even though he reportedly died two days ago, exactly three weeks after he had been admitted to the hospital in Pula. Our priest was with him a day earlier, and it seemed to him that Paul was in a bad way. At one point during the priest’s visit Paul stopped breathing and started shaking. “Agony,” said the priest quietly. Apparently he died that night. To most of Paul’s friends in Motovun the news came as a relief. The suffering is finally over. After so many weeks in hospital, he was as good as dead, anyhow. But it will take us a while to digest Paul’s last years in our town. After some four years in our midst, he became one of us. Each of us will mourn him on our own, but mourn him we surely will. As for me, a single German word will be enough to remember our last lesson: Deutsch 119. Or the following one, which we will never have.

Addendum III (September 28, 2007)

At long last, Paul was buried at five o’clock this afternoon. And in Motovun, of all places. As he left no will concerning his funeral, or money for it, and as he was estranged from his family in Germany, where he still has a sister and a nephew by another sister, it took a long time for the hospital authorities in Pula to figure out what to do with his frozen remains. In the end, the German embassy in Zagreb paid all the expenses. Our little town turned out to be the cheapest alternative, I gather. Only a few people came to the funeral, which I unfortunately missed because of my trip to Zagreb. According to some common friends I talked to on the phone immediately after the event, the ceremony was the shortest in their memory. There was no mass, either. In its place, the priest gave a short speech by the open grave. And so my teacher of German language will remain connected to Motovun forever. Literally, too.

Addendum IV (October 17, 2007)

There were five of us at the mass held for Paul this evening. Counting our priest, who knew and liked the deceased well, there were six of us, in fact. Afterwards, Ljubica Handjal, Eni Nurkollari, and I went for a drink at Klaudio’s. In a way, we felt like the chosen ones. We laughed a lot, too. As Ljubica concluded at some point, Paul was lucky to have so many true friends. Eni and I chuckled, but we also nodded in agreement. Now Paul can surely rest in peace.