The fading away of the being, uncanny intimacy

The fading away of the being, uncanny intimacy, the fading away of the soul.

I am sitting next to Maud, my mother, I, that has been the centre of her care since my birth till her death. She asks : «　Where is my Pat ?　», that’s the way she called me, shortening my first name, Patrice. She speaks of me as if I was not there; as if someone else was in the room. I tell her: «　But it’s me, your Pat　». She looks dubious. Weird uncanny intimacy. Her soul is fading away; wearing off. I remember it had been the same with my maternal grandmother, at the end of her life she did not recognise me.

Patrice Tardieu

Written on the day that was her birthday.

Please note that I take the word «　soul　» in its philosophical sense, it is what enlivens the living ( «　anima　» in Latin, «　psyche　» in Greek ); old age worn out progressively the soul : recognition, memories, tastes disappear. The soul is what the dead leaves behind him.

The Germans have a word for the weird uncanny intimacy : «　das Umheimliche　»; you’re at «　home　» («　Heim　») but it’s not «　home　».