'The bright colours of misery' was properly published in 1962, this book that no editor or publisher seemed to be able to figure out the genre of featured every single piece of work in Heidi's little handmade watercolour sketchbook. Every single page featured the artwork, and then an explanation of who was in it, and why she had drawn it, she did it as a tribute to her dear lively colours. She never mentioned people's names, but their colours and so much more. It was a true piece of art. Heidi was proud of it, rightfully, but she mostly felt its importance through her bones. It brought her closure, closure that years had not brought her. Once the book was out there she felt that she had paid her tribute to those she loved most, in the best way she possibly could. It carried her emotions, her grief and her love and appreciation for all of these people, that were still so vivid and alive in her memories. Wilma took half a year to read it, because she couldn't handle reading a whole page a day. I suspect her close proximity to Heidi might have made her reaction slightly biassed and far stronger than that of most readers, but it certainly didn't make it less impressive.
I believe that the story I wanted to tell ends here, although Heidi went on to live until the late 2010s. She stayed in Berlin for most of her life, never lonely, or even alone, I assure you, Wilma moved to switzerland in the 60s, Heidi joked about it a lot, saying it was her symptoms of a midlife crisis, but deep down she knew her sister had always wanted to leave, just like Frieda had expressed the desire to all those years ago. Heidi fought for many things, and never went back to keeping her opinions to herself. Those who got to know her as an older woman described her as lively and incapable of shutting her mouth and keeping quiet, which contrasted so much with the shy little girl I had seen growing up that it almost felt surreal sometimes. Her life eventually turned into a good one, although she remained haunted until she died and started haunting me.