IN MEMORY OF MIESZKO TALARCZYK

EULOGY BY JESPER LIVERÖD

"I regularly find myself chuckling when I'm on the subway or walking around and come to think of Mieszko's moronically funny sense of humor, or some stupid situation we have been in."

I have no idea how to write something like this.

I have tried several times, written a couple of paragraphs, and then erased it like the piece of shit text it really was. Because writing a eulogy over someone you considered a friend and with whom you have realized some of your wildest experiences with is virtually impossible. We're all lyricists in some sense, but describing what no scholar, writer or psychiatrist can put into words - the intense and surreal confrontation of human loss - is actually physically difficult.

I have no idea how to handle death.
I have no idea how closure works.
I have no idea how to handle loss and regret.

It seems out of place to try and describe what I and so many people around Mieszko have felt these last couple of months before and after his death. I don't want to trivialize anyone's grief or sensation of this great loss by describing it awkwardly. I am, as most people struck by Mieszko's death, too bewildered and dumbfounded to say something that makes the situation manageable. Death is too personal and subjective to be described generally. So, I'm just going to say a few words about my times with him.

The first time I saw Mieszko was at a Sepultura gig in Stockholm in -94. I had seen a picture of him in some fanzine, and recognized him just as I do with a lot of people I've only seen briefly. Even though he wasn't a huge guy he looked bad ass with his long hair and his sharp features. I don't know if it was from that impression that I developed some kind of respect for him that I got when I eventually got to know him, and that I maintained throughout our times together, but it seems probable. Mieszko was the kind of guy who expressed steadfast self confidence and gained people's respect everywhere, even if he was harsh at times. I was always amazed at how people kind of surrendered and came back to him even when he had been vicious, which he could definitely be. But that wasn't really him being arrogant, it was him saying it like it was, what his opinion was. When a lot of people would be insincere for the sake of being comfortable, he would simply just speak his mind.

Musically, I think Mieszko definitely had a gift for writing heavy music, and I was always jealous of his ability for writing catchy and intelligent lyrics at a whim. I personally don't think he was any kind of musical prodigy who graced the world with his wonderful gifts - I would say that he was ace but definitely had musical limits. But as in so many cases when it came to Mieszko's personality, he had truckloads of something which I regard as one of the most important features in a musician and in a general human being: integrity. The confidence he conveyed in Nasum and his studio work was most definitely a product of this. Mieszko believed in what he was doing and did it with honesty and commitment. Nasum was a grand display of his and Anders's relentless approach to what it means to have a band, and that was always inspiring when I was a part of Nasum.

I write this in the month of May, 2005. The numbness of his death has somewhat disappeared these last months. I and most people that knew Mieszko have returned to our lives in bands, at work, with friends, in bars and in front of computers and in small talk about the weather. Life as we know it has returned, but with a small sense of regret and shame. Is it ok to not think about his death constantly any more? Is life that expendable? Is that how fleeting human relationships are? I think like that sometimes, but then also realize that no one is capable of constant grief without totally collapsing. I think there are and should be no rules or perceptions of how to handle death, and returning to your life again after someone's passing is actually a celebration of what this person meant. With that said, I regularly think about him. I regularly find myself chuckling when I'm on the subway or walking around and come to think of Mieszko's moronically funny sense of humor, or some stupid situation we have been in. It makes me happy that a memory like that can make me smile and not just feel remorseful.

I wish that I could've gotten the chance to tell him that I admired his integrity. I would have wanted to tell him exactly how I felt about his arrogance. I wish I could've told him properly how much I noticed and appreciated his generosity. I wish I could've recognized his sense of righteousness more than I did. I wish that he could've gotten to play with his band until it was finished, not this abrupt ending. I wish Emma could have gotten to keep her beloved partner. I wish all his friends and his family could be spared of this immense loss.

I wish a lot of things.

Thanks Mieszko.

Jesper Liveröd

Anders: "Mieszko never had the chance to be a hero or a survivor. He most likely died in the first wave. I do know that the last thing he did was to protect his girlfriend so in my eyes he died as a hero."

Jon: "I still pick up the phone to call you just to ask if you think we'll go to Japan soon or if that drummer still sucks /.../ and I remember there is no one on the other side of the line."

Urban: "He really tried living his life to the fullest and since he was such an efficient person I think he, for the most part, succeeded in doing so."