October 21, 1988 - Claude leaves us
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"We are here in the Jura... at 1000 meters above sea level in the middle of pastures and fir trees. It is not cold and there are beautiful lightenings with a very poetic mist background. ... ...our studio is comfortable and friendly and we do "small" walks because I have lost many of my good legs..."
Details
Map of our last walks
A text that Claude liked
Baltimore 1692
Go to the middle of the noise and the press and remember the peace that there can be in the silence.
As much as possible, but without compromise, stay on good terms with everyone. Say what you think peacefully and clearly; listen to others, even the boring and ignorant; they too have their history.
Avoids noisy and aggressive people, they come to the mind.
If you compare yourself to others, you can become vain or very bitter; for there will always be better people or less well than you. Enjoy your achievements as much as your plans for the future. Always be interested in your work even if it is humble; this is your true good in the midst of the so changing fortunes of our time. Exercise your prudence in business, for the world is full of crooks. But do not close your eyes before the great virtues that can be found there; many try to achieve a high ideal and life is full of heroic acts.
Be natural; especially do not try to feign affection. Nor be cynical about love; for in the face of all droughts and disappointments, it is as perennial as green grass.
Take the council of years serenely by giving up good thanks to youth. Fortify your soul in anticipation of sudden misfortunes. But do not give up on imagined despair. Many fears arise from fatigue and loneliness. While imposing a healthy discipline, do not demand too much of yourself.
You are part of the universe just like trees and stars; it is your right to be here. And whether it seems obvious to you or not, the Universe follows God's plan.
Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever way you imagine it, and be at peace with your soul whatever your work and aspirations in the noisy mix of life.
Despite all his falsehood, monotony, and broken dreams, this world is wonderful.
Transcribed by Claude, circa 1985
"Jardin", prayer of Claude before separation
OUR MARRIAGE WAS A JARDIN
Come, my God, sit with me and look
Look at my situation. I'm alone now.
When I look at our life from the past, I compare it to a garden.
Lord, you have given and you have taken back, may your name be blessed. For this I say to you, come my God! Sit with me and speak to me
I need to hear your voice.
I'm alone now in my garden,
Only to reap what we sow
But in my loneliness, in my sorrow, I turn to you, my God.
To say thank you, because together we were happy
And from this garden, I don't hold back the work:
J
'have the memory that our two-way life was a huge bouquet of flowers
Thank God for the past lived together
Thanks for your help today.
Thanks for staying in your hand tomorrow.
October 1988
Around 1:00 a.m. on Friday, October 21, she stopped breathing. I was lying on a mattress next to her, watching her breathing difficult. She had been unconscious since Tuesday morning. The neighbor helped me to make her toilet and dress her. It would have been difficult later.
Wishes of Claude for his last moments
"Evening,"
Prayer
SAY
Here I am at the end of the day
with the love I gave up and the happiness I received
with the joy I have retained and the tenderness I have refused
with the morning ardour and fatigue resulting from the same tirelessly repeated gestures
with my song of courage
with the sin I'm hanging behind me and you know it.
I continued with tenacity through the long race of this day
patient creation of my life, until last night
where I will contemplate the long race of my days
like a vast landscape unfolded before my eyes.
Then you will be by my side, and you will look at it as in the beginning:
Really, it's beautiful.
Behold, Lord, I give thee the work of my hands and my heart:
There's shadow, there's light like a universe is making itself
Now I'm going to rest in peace
October 1988
letter from Liliane Lang
Death certificate
Night song, "A Yves"
by Claude
His last pages
"Be wise, O my pain and be quieter"
Why don't you, little man, remember anything?
There are other long nights: that of the one who lies down, distraught by life, distraught. He cannot sleep because he has a horrible pain or because he is inhabited by worries and sorrow. Why so many fantasies in the heart of silence and darkness..." the bird's net"..." the roaring lion seeking to devour": already the men of the Bible held these moments like those of disarray and abandonment. Yes, the irrational grasps you as well as obsessive themes of regret and rancour. Prehistoric, obscure fears of a man without fire and defense plunge you into a maze of shadows... then you hear your heart beat and you seek the breath and warmth of the companion near you whose great peaceful body reassures you...or else you prefer to be alone and lament you aloud.
Why doesn't courage stick to your skin?
But what about the dynamic night of the adventure runner? We're leaving early tomorrow; we're going on a trip. Will you wake up in time? It may be an excursion; I'm picking up my strength. We'll climb this summit; we have to go before the dawn of the day. Oh, the smell of the morning fresh, the smell of the forest, the connivance with the animal world. We wake up from those nights, leaping with energies gathered.
Why are these happy nights so rare?
It is also unique nights - those that precede an event that will engage your life without return... the last night of the future bride on the eve of her marriage. So these are meaningful, meditative and solitary nights. It is also the night of the watchman; the night of the knight before leaving for the crusade; that of the ambitious ready to pass the Rubicon.
Why do you have that anxiety or fear? But what about the last night, if it is not to speak of it by whispering, as in a church... Night of the condemned who waits for the dawn... Night of the one who will die and knows that the great machine which is his body is worn out... Night of the fighter who knows the deadly attack for tomorrow. Time then stretches; if you are lucid, you will measure the flow of your being and time, and in the silence of a difficult peace, you are suddenly with a density until now unknown...Fashion that this night "let you appear standing before the Son of Man" (Luke 21:36) without being devastated by suffering.
Why do some die in the lightning of an accident without being prepared for it? Is it a privilege?
And the night of Love? A game of body where the 5 senses become alive, where one reveals one another to the whole of one another, where one communicates his joy of life, his warmth, his love, his unexpressed thoughts and perhaps inexpressible. As this game is living, inventive, attentive, which reveals to the body energies and feelings of drunkenness. And then, this night of Love can be a creative of life.
Why is this act of love and union sometimes a bit dull?
There are also mystical nights. The one of Saint John of the Cross, "dark night" of dereliction; abandoned by God and himself, like Jesus Christ at Mount Olives, he knows the ultimate poverty, enormous, unbearable when we bet everything on God. Winner with the hand of God, he becomes a man of fire, purified... Pascal also had his night; it was rather a moment, not so much poverty as illumination: from about IO 1/2 in the evening until about midnight on November 23, 1654 "Certainness of certainties, feeling, joy, peace, God of Jesus Christ, your God will be my God."
Why are we not more faithful to our certainty and the signs we have received?
I don't forget the little child who sleeps in dusk after having dinner, listening to the noises of the house, waiting for the kiss of his parents.... Marcel Proust was in a great mood, waiting for his mother to come. "Border me like a staple" said one of my children: here I will not fall from my bed, he thought. I am well tidy, everything is in order... and tomorrow life will start at the shade of my house.
Why do not little children who are not loved know the safety of their nest?
Now let's talk about a night of Schubert (in b flat major, I think)...a wonderful little music where the piano and violin chat from the deepest for anyone who wants to be soothed. The song comes back, sweet, and the phrases on the piano and violin are like an echo - night with double faces where you need to find your echo and your reply.
Live his life with fervour as it is given to us.
Spring will grow
October 1988