Hey, guys. This is something I wrote about a month ago. I channeled my tears for the end of The Book Thief into this . . . I hope you like it. I thought I'd post it on Hitler's birthday to honor Rudy's rebelliousness. And to those in Boston, you are in our prayers.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Book Thief. Zusak does. I also do not own the cover image.
Sehe Ich Mir Vom Himmel (Watching From Heaven) – A Tribute to Rudy Steiner
He waited for her in Heaven. He watched as she finally kissed him – at least, what had been him – under a floating layer of fallout ash and debris.
She kissed his body; a corpse. The old shell for his soul.
He couldn't hear what she said, but he didn't have to. He already knew, and he was sorry. Sorry he never worked up the courage to say it until it was too late.
I love you too, Saumensch.
He watched her cry, watched her world turn gray when she found her papa in the pile of unfortunate souls, watched her go into shock from the horrible unfairness of it all. He watched her struggle to comprehend the horrible reality of what had happened, to understand that this was all the fault of words and war.
He watched her struggle from Above, and wished he could be there to hold her, to help her, to tell her that everything would be okay.
But he couldn't, because that was a lie. Selfishly, he wished she had died as well and come with him. He knew it was horrible of him, but if she had died she would have been with him, and then at least he could have been able to comfort her.
But it didn't happen that way. So he had to watch from the place their street was named after – the very street that had been reduced to rubble, dust, eerie stillness, the bitter smell of burnt flesh and hollowed-out shoebox houses, the place that had been stripped clean by Death – as she suffered, alone and bereft.
Suck it up, Saumensch, he wanted to tell her, Get over it, book thief. You're stronger than that. I know it; you know it, so accept that life is shit and unfair and move on.
Harsh, perhaps, but he knew she needed a wake-up call. It was sickening to watch her drift in and out of every day looking so empty.
He could practically hear her calling to Death, begging him, Please – take me, too.
Death ignored her, of course. They all knew it wasn't her time. Eventually, through words and Ilsa Hermann and his father and, later, Max Vandenburg, he watched her pull through it.
He watched from Heaven as his Saumensch grew up and got married, settled down and saw the world. He watched as she went through dark times and happier times. He watched as she did her best to live despite having the world ripped out from under her at the tender age of fourteen.
He watched and fell more in love with her every day. He watched and was proud of his Saumensch for being strong and showing the world, the Allies, the Führer, the beauty and inner strength of the book thief.
He watched her grow old, and waited patiently (ha, since when was his name and that word strung together in the same sentence?) for the day Death would claim her and he could finally see her again face-to-face.
* * * A NOTE ABOUT HIS PATIENCE * * *
He waited a lifetime for her to kiss him, and he waited another lifetime for the chance to return the favor.
The day finally came and he watched as Death claimed her, gathered her soul gently in his arms and brought her up to Heaven.
He was waiting impatiently (ah, that was more like it) by the Gates when she finally arrived. She shed harsh years of life as Death gently set her down on her feet; until she was the timeless, eternal, beautiful book thief he knew and loved.
He stepped forward with his arms outstretched, a reckless, Jessie Owens smirk on his face.
"How about a kiss, Saumensch?"
So, yep, that's my tribute to Rudy. Here's a random question: who likes hockey?
Please R&R.
~ Home By Another Way