I begin my list of Dramatis Personae with Pia—because she died last week. And because since then, she has haunted my thoughts.
Others will follow at some point. Without order, without plan. Just people who shaped—or twisted—my life, one by one.
Basic Data
Born – Died: December 1973 – February 2025 († 51 years)
Cause of death: Brain tumor.
When the soul speaks through the body but the mind won’t listen, maybe it ends with a brain tumor.
I know, that’s a brutal oversimplification. But psychosomatics won’t let me go—especially not with Pia.
Places lived:
Her whole life in and around Biel-Bienne—a bilingual industrial town in the Swiss Midlands. Lots of watchmaking, lots of concrete, a bit of charm, a bit of grime.
Profession:
Care assistant in elder care (two-year training program)
Relationship to work:
Helper syndrome deluxe. She really wanted to be a nurse—but didn’t have the grades (or maybe even the interest).
I always felt she didn’t want the job itself but rather the romantic picture of it.
The devoted caregiver who saves a handsome, gentle firefighter—and falls hopelessly in love. Happy ending. (Cue Helene Fischer ballad.)
Reality?
Hard labor and men who only drooled—90 years old, demented, incontinent.
Family
- Mother: Lory (my mother’s sister)
- Father: Hugo (my father’s brother)
- Brother: Paddy—three years younger than Pia
- Partner: Tom—her first and only partner, whom she met rather late
Pia was the iron virgin of the family.
I was the slut—she the pure one.
Not out of conviction. She wanted to—but it never happened.
Two or three intimate encounters before Tom, but never a relationship.
Children: None. (Thank God.)
She always wanted to be a mother, even as a teenager. The universe was merciful.
Personality & Type
Kind. Quick-tempered. Stubborn.
Her weight defined her self-image. Obese since childhood.
Always dieting, counting calories, comparing herself.
She wanted to be liked—at any price.
Strong opinions, fights, confrontation? Foreign words.
Harmony at all costs—even if it meant erasing herself.
Mainstream through and through.
At 15 she dressed like she was 45. Listened to schlager and folk music.
She probably never read anything other than Blick her whole life.
No real interests. No curiosity. No passion.
No friction.
But if she exploded—it was fierce.
Psychological Profile (Pschikology)
Or: why she was so messed up
Classic victim personality.
She adapted. Let everything happen. Never said no.
Tolerated the intolerable.
Extreme conflict avoidance.
She’d rather stay silent than admit an uncomfortable truth—even if someone else suffered for it.
Cowardice as a survival strategy.
She saw things were wrong. And looked away.
She knew something wasn’t right—and acted like everything was fine.
A lifetime of self-deception.
No matter how bad it was—she played harmony.
The world could burn, and Pia would have slapped Atemlos durch die Nacht over it.
Father complexes galore.
In love with her uncle Ronald—
even though (or precisely because?) he sexually harassed her.
And why?
Of course: the parents.
Hugo: the ultimate family tyrant.
A—sorry—complete asshole.
Dumb as bread, yet full of strong opinions.
Always against foreigners.
Sex-obsessed. No boundaries. Especially drunk.
Loud. Impulsive. Intimidating. A dictator without a realm.
Lory: the one left to clean up.
She excused everything Hugo did.
She was damage control personified.
The result?
Pia carried the system forward.
She didn’t fight it—she found herself another Hugo: Tom.
Her self-destructive behavior didn’t come from lust—
but from the fact she never knew another culture of relationship.
Our Relationship
As a child, I idolized her.
I wanted to be like her.
Running through forests, playing superheroes with her—that was everything to me.
But I always felt she wasn’t as excited about me as I was about her.
She preferred hanging out with the adults.
As teenagers, the difference became stark:
I rebelled, read books, fought for justice.
She grew old—inside. Gave in. Listened to schlager, stayed nice, quiet, compliant.
Her withdrawal was final.
The more I needed her, the further she retreated.
Key Moments—good, bitter, absurd
What was good:
Our heroine adventures in the woods.
I loved escaping into fantasy worlds with her.
Our little trips as teenagers—just the two of us. Then she felt close. Then she liked me.
What still makes me angry:
Her silence when I needed her most.
Her silence about the abuse.
Conclusion
If I had to describe her in one sentence:
A person who swallowed everything—until it ate her from the inside out.
What I learned from her?
That silence can be just as cruel as words.
What I would tell her today, if I could:
“I wish you had found the courage to look.”