Pippi was a remarkable woman. Grown-up, wise, playful, and childlike. Uninhibited, yet marked by suffering. Pippi was there for everyone—except herself. Far too late, she tried to repair the damage, but by then, it seemed too late.
When I met Pippi, she was already on her way out, already in the process of letting go. She asked me to put her adventures down on paper, and with high spirits, we got started. She talked, I wrote, and secretly I admired her for her strength, flexibility, and courage.
While telling her stories, she took my hand, marveled at the bump on my middle finger, and asked what caused it.
“From writing,” I answered offhandedly, wanting to return to her story.
She laughed. “How can you not know what to do with your life, when the answer is right under your nose? Use your writing bump!”
I laughed along, surprised by the simple, clear insight.
Her worldwide adventures made a deep impression on me, and I could listen to her for hours. Yet Pippi always remained humble. She never flaunted her wisdom but shared it generously. She could still marvel at the beauty of life, the wisdom of others. She spoke promisingly to me, saying that my adventures, too, were worthy of being written into books.
“Maybe… another time…” I shyly brushed her off.
But Pippi was persistent. I had to promise her that I would keep writing. And I made that promise to her many times—from the bottom of my heart.
At the beginning of this year, I started blogging—my first brave steps as a writer. The world was finally allowed to see me! Pippi was overjoyed, admired my stories, gave feedback, and loved reading them—even as her eyesight was failing.
Overtaken by illness, she struggled with life. Even as she braved turbulent seas of doubt, fear, anger, and confusion, the horizon remained clear: the world could let her go. Her determination left me reeling, gasping for air. I was allowed to accompany her for part of her final journey, and I felt honored and scared at the same time.
How do you prepare the world for a Pippi-less existence?
Many conversations followed—not to document her past adventures, but to chart her final one. What paths were available, what obstacles had to be overcome? Pippi cried, Pippi fought, and I stood bravely by her side.
After a period of radio silence, Pippi and I reconnected. The suitcase was ready, the plan written. Pippi was ready—and so was the rest of her world. The final purchases were made, and then her great journey could begin. Pippi was afraid and tense, but thankfully she had her soul sisters by her side. We spent her final evenings before the big adventure together—just the four of us, in Pippi’s house, sun-drenched and summer warm. We spoke of all her adventures, all the beautiful moments. Pippi reminisced with her soul sisters, we looked at photos and listened to music. The sun caressed her face and I tried to imprint the image in my mind, to anchor it as a memory.
How do you let go of something you want to hold on to forever?
Pippi and I had our final conversation lovingly, attentively. She gave me some final advice, reminded me of the things I tend to forget. She gave me the greatest compliment: that I too had the Pippi Spirit. I smiled through my broken heart, grateful that we could share these moments. We held each other’s hands, and I thanked her for our friendship. On my way home, I felt calm and numb at the same time.
In recent times, I had been so focused on her great adventure, I hadn’t realized that this goodbye would be final. Pippi had begun her great journey—and mine had begun too. To the rest of the world, I spoke her final words—resolute, sincere, and proud:
“Until next time, Pippi. Safe travels.”
Pippi’s footsteps toward liberation