In Kafka In The Castle, I fill in the ‘missing’ diary entries from Kafka’s real diary. He either did not fill in these days himself, or he destroyed them. There are some estimates that Kafka destroyed 70% – 80% of everything he wrote.
11 March 1917
To the country again.
To the dying.
The family questions why it has not yet happened. Friends take their place in the background. There seem as many social obligations here as elsewhere. I look for something profound, but the dying know no more than we. He does, however, gather his strength for a formal leave-taking. Apologizes to his sons for being a poor father, then expresses his surprise that they take the time to show him so much concern and attention.
They are confused, and wonder why he says such things. They insist his fears are groundless. I can tell their shock is honest, and that they tell the truth. The old man can not smile, but tells them he is glad they say what they say.
And I wonder, if I were in their place, how I could twist the truth to appease the dying.
DE
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