by Anna Nicholas

On my regular morning runs to Sóller port I have often shared nods and 1）pleasantries with an elderly 2）Majorcan gentleman. I have never known his name， or much about him， but that doesnt matter. Come rain or shine I always find him plodding methodically along the promenade in his beige 3）mac and， wearing a rather stylish black beret on his near bald head. As a 4）portly man， he 5）huffs and puffs a lot and so it is with some relief for us both that we are able to stop to share a few words about the weather and to catch our breath.

6）Uncharacteristically， my elderly friend never crossed my path last week and I began fretting about his whereabouts. You see， over the years I created my own story for him： a lonely widower who took the morning air and enjoyed passing the time of day with a few locals and near strangers like me.

And then yesterday I discovered the truth in the usual brutal way here. In my village grocery store his face loomed large on a death notice flyer on the counter and it was all I could do not to utter an exclamation. Instead， I took one of the 7）A5 sized sheets to study at home in order to say my own farewell to him， if not in person， at least mentally.

Death “flyers” crop up regularly in my mountain town. As soon as a local bites the dust， the family usually rushes out a small flyer showing the face of the dearly departed together with details of the manner and time of death. The notices are distributed around the town in cafés and stores to be seen and discussed by sombre friends and acquaintances.

Over time I have learnt of the death of many Majorcans in the valley this way. Although some have their deaths reported in our two weekly newspapers， it is often the case that some locals miss out and so the little death flyer comes into its own. Much as I dont relish reading these regular death bugles， I do at least feel that they serve a purpose， allowing us all， even mere strangers， to show respect for those who have passed on. Of course the deaths of expats are rarely highlighted in this way， because it is simply not a part of our culture.

I have grown to accept the custom and in some ways am thankful for it. Otherwise I would never have known that the courteous elderly man who greeted me so warmly these past years had 8）slipped this mortal coil. And happily his black tinged flyer informed me that， contrary to being a lonely widower， he had a loving wife， grown up sons and grandchildren. Shed a tear as I might that I would never see my old chum again， I was able to take comfort in knowing that in this life， at least he had been deeply cherished.

我每天都會在同一時間往索列爾港方向晨跑，常常遇到一位馬略卡老先生，我們會點頭致意，寒暄幾句。我從不知道他的名字，對他的了解也不多，但這并不要緊。無論是雨天還是晴天，我總會看到他穿著米色風衣沿著步行大道拖著步子有條不紊地躑躅前行，他那幾乎全禿的頭上總是戴著一頂時髦的黑色貝雷帽。他體形肥碩，經(jīng)常氣喘吁吁，所以當我們可以停下來說上兩句，聊一聊天氣，緩一下氣，對我倆來說都是一種放松。

異乎尋常地，上周，我跑步時一直沒碰見我的這位老人家朋友，我開始擔心起他的狀況來。要知道，這些年來，我在心里給他編了一個故事：一個孤獨的鰥夫，感受早晨的氣息，享受與幾個當?shù)厝艘约跋裎疫@樣幾近陌路的人一起打發(fā)白天的時光。

然而就在昨天，我以一種平常卻殘酷的方式發(fā)現(xiàn)了真相。在我住的那個小村莊的雜貨店里，他的臉赫然出現(xiàn)柜臺上的訃告?zhèn)鲉沃?，我故作?zhèn)定，沒有驚訝的表現(xiàn)。相反，我拿起其中一份A5紙張大小的告示，帶回家細看，以向他表達我的告別，即使不能親自到場，至少也在心里默默送別。

在我所住的山區(qū)小鎮(zhèn)上，不時就有死亡“傳單”的出現(xiàn)。一旦有當?shù)厝诉^世，其家人通常會印發(fā)一些小傳單，將摯親的肖像連同死亡原因和時間等細節(jié)信息印在上面。這些單子會分發(fā)到鎮(zhèn)上的咖啡館和店鋪，讓心情沉痛的朋友和熟人能看到、談?wù)摗?/p>

隨著時間的流逝，我以這種方式了解到了這個山谷里許多馬略卡人去世的消息。雖然有些人將訃告刊登在我們的雙周報上，但經(jīng)常會有當?shù)厝藳]有看到，所以這小小的訃告?zhèn)鲉芜€是有其所用。很多時候我并不希望讀到這些時不時出現(xiàn)的關(guān)于死亡的訊號，但至少我還是感覺到其一定的作用，讓我們所有人，甚至是陌生人都能對逝者致意。當然，外國人如果在這里去世了，很少會以這種方式公告他人，因為這并非我們文化的一部分。

我慢慢接受了這種風俗，某種程度上還抱有一份感激之情。否則我永遠也不會知道那位在過去這些年來熱情地與我打招呼的謙恭老者已經(jīng)駕鶴西去。而且很慶幸，他的這份淡黑色的傳單讓我知道，他不是一個孤獨的鰥夫，相反，他有個可愛的妻子，有幾個年長的兒子和孫子。我再也見不到我的老朋友了，我會因之流下眼淚，但我可以感到安慰的是，我知道在他的這一生里，至少他曾被深深地珍愛過。