He jumped to his feet to greet him. “Friedrich, good to see you. Thank you for making the time for me.” After collecting their beer at the counter, they sat again at the same quiet corner table. Alfred had resolved not to be the focus of the entire conversation once again and began, “How are you and your mother doing?” “My mother’s still in shock, still trying to grasp that my father is gone from existence. At times she seems to forget he’s gone. Twice she thought she saw him in a crowd of people outside. And the denial in her dreams, Alfred—it’s extraordinary! When she woke this morning, she said it was terrible to open her eyes: she was so happy walking and talking to my father in her dream that she hated waking to rejoin a reality in which he was still dead.” “As for me,” Friedrich continued, “I’m struggling on two fronts, just like the German army. Not only do I have to grapple with the fact of his death, but in this short time I’m here, I have to help my mother.
