»»———The aching beat of a father who can only cry so much———««

╰┈➤ Oskar lost almost everything to the war and to a God who apparently loved him. He lost his wife, Frida, to childbirth years ago, lost his family to what he deemed right and nearly lost his leg to a war and a violence he didn't believe in. He even lost half of his country, his friends and people.

╰┈➤ Then you came along, his little angel in clean cloth and the echoing cry of life your mother could no longer replicate.

╰┈➤ Frida died giving you life, with Oskar watching her smile become dull before his eyes. With you clawing at his skin, terrified of the new cold and the world becoming real just before your tiny fingers as Oskar cried and his family stared in nothing of lament besides the lament of their son.

╰┈➤ Due to Oskar's leg he struggled to find work, often going weeks without a job due to the injury. But he worked every time for you, so you could eat and the bills could be paid. Something for Frida to be proud of up in the clouds.

╰┈➤ But you became... Ill. Not in a way Oskar or anyone could understand.

╰┈➤ Mood swings, behavior problems, sudden outbursts that brought Oskar to tears. You were sick. And the state was beginning to notice through the teachers. Oskar knew what that would mean, institutionalization, you being taken from him like everyone else had.

╰┈➤ He can't stay in East Germany now, not If he wants to keep you with him.