This post is mostly about Claus when he was at his top as one of Denmarks top tennis players.

I have kept scans of all the newspaper clippings from when he was winning a lot of tournaments.





























































In the mid 90's he started to get pretty sick and although he still tried to play tennis it was never at the same level again. Eventually he more or less gave up. His illness took to great a hold of him. These are some of the 'darkest' photos I have of him while he was struggling with his schizophrenia and were taken shortly before I moved to Australia.





He lost contact with most of his friends and was very dependent on my mum and dad as well as other support programs in place.







I prefer to remember him as he was before he passed away.


















This poem reminds me of him.

The morning after I killed myself, I woke up.

I made myself breakfast in bed. I added salt and pepper to my eggs and used my toast for a cheese and bacon sandwich. I squeezed a grapefruit into a juice glass. I scraped the ashes from the frying pan and rinsed the butter off the counter. I washed the dishes and folded the towels.
The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love. Not with the boy down the street or the middle school principal. Not with the everyday jogger or the grocer who always left the avocados out of the bag. I fell in love with my mother and the way she sat on the floor of my room holding each rock from my collection in her palms until they grew dark with sweat. I fell in love with my father down at the river as he placed my note into a bottle and sent it into the current. With my brother who once believed in unicorns but who now sat in his desk at school trying desperately to believe I still existed.

The morning after I killed myself, I walked the dog. I watched the way her tail twitched when a bird flew by or how her pace quickened at the sight of a cat. I saw the empty space in her eyes when she reached a stick and turned around to greet me so we could play catch but saw nothing but sky in my place. I stood by as strangers stroked her muzzle and she wilted beneath their touch like she did once for mine.

The morning after I killed myself, I went back to the neighbors’ yard where I left my footprints in concrete as a two year old and examined how they were already fading. I picked a few daylilies and pulled a few weeds and watched the elderly woman through her window as she read the paper with the news of my death. I saw her husband spit tobacco into the kitchen sink and bring her her daily medication.

The morning after I killed myself, I watched the sun come up. Each orange tree opened like a hand and the kid down the street pointed out a single red cloud to his mother.

The morning after I killed myself, I went back to that body in the morgue and tried to talk some sense into her. I told her about the avocados and the stepping stones, the river and her parents. I told her about the sunsets and the dog and the beach.

The morning after I killed myself, I tried to unkill myself, but couldn’t finish what I started.

—Meggie Royer

Here are some more photos from my childhood in no particular order.

The first ones from a New Years eve where we got a bit silly with the hats. These were taken at a New Years even in Kenya and before my brother got really sick, so probably around 1989/90.



And here is Claus.



And my mum.




I was really good at shooting when I was a kid and won lots of championships. This photo is one of the few things I have from that time.


This is Claus and I with our dog.



Not sure which ones of these is Claus and which is me.




















This was taken just christmas day in the back yard of my grandma's (Mormor) house. We got the skis as a christmas present. All the fields behind her house belonged to my mothers brother Flemming.



I think this may be my brother. For the first time I've noticed the photo in the background. It looks like this may be a photo of my mum with her two sisters and brother and what could be her dad Raimer in the middle.















This would most likely be the new years eve where we were trapped by the snow 1978/79. We were supposed to have celebrated with the family but couldn't even get out of the house. Delicious with a glass of milk and a pie.






We didn't have a lawn in the back yard. Instead we had pebbles...lots of fun shoveling them.







This I think is a christmas eve dinner at my grandmas (mormor) place. My mum on the left and my uncle Flemming in the middle. Not sure who the person standing up in. It could be my grandmas brother. Possibly from around 1976/77


I think it is my great grandpa (Raimer) in the middle row number two from the left. The title of the photo says that it is Christoffer (??) in the top left corner. Looking at the age of the boys this would have been taken in the 1920's.


Claus dancing aeound the christmas tree and my mum and grandma (Bedstemor/Farmor).


From left to Right. My grandma (On my dads side/Bedstemor/farmor), Knud Aage (My uncle/dads brother), My mum (in the foreground), My grandad (in the background), Irene (my auntie/dads sister), Grete and I assume the baby is Vinnie which means that it is likely that my mum was pregnant with Claus (born in July).