The Rewritten Ending of The Book Thief

THE OFFICIAL MEETING

The book thief had an amazing life. We both agreed on that. Now, she even respects me and what I do. There is no more hatred towards me. Just an understanding.

Max’s time had come fourteen years ago. Rudy had fallen into my arms less than a year ago. Of course, she had mourned.

But she understood.

Now, it’s her time.

She had acknowledged the forthcoming events, and had already said her goodbyes to her children, grandchildren, and her only great-grandchild at that time. Then I gently grasped her soul away from her tired body.

She had gone while she was sleeping.

One moment her heart was pumping its already sluggish beat, and the next, it slowed to a stop.

✵   ✵   ✵   HER FINAL THOUGHTS   ✵   ✵   ✵

1. A boy with lemon hair.

2. An accordion.

3. A watschen spoon.

4. Feathery hair.

5. Kommunist.

6. Thieving.

When I had taken her soul away, she greeted me expectantly, as if we were friends from long ago. I had shown her The Book Thief, now barely recognizable from seventy years of wear and tear. But it was still the same book.

Overwhelmed, she had looked at me and asked, “You found it? Have you read it?”

“Yes, I have. It was down at the Amper, and I just came across it. Yes, I have read it. It was...” I stammered. I did not have the words for her book. I was just forming the words when she spoke.

“Did you understand it?”

Yet again, I had lost my words.

Instead, I gave The Book Thief back to its author, to its creator.

We walked. I don’t exactly remember where, but for some reason, I thought it was Himmel Street. The one before it was bombed.

We didn’t speak of the previous conversation.

Luckily, she had many questions in need of answering from me. But what could I say that she did not already know? Her eyes, heart, and mind have seen, felt, and thought more than I ever have in my long career. Her wisdom was greater than any other being, no matter if that being was an old oak tree or God himself.

That is why I asked my next question.

“Did you ever see me?”

“In a way, yes, I have,” she replied. “I have seen you touch my life, as you have to many others. I had felt you overcoming Werner. I had glimpsed as you dropped from a plane towards Himmel Street. And I see you now. I have learned, in my short life, that you are inevitable. That you are always in plain sight. People just have to look a little harder to notice you.”

I lost my words yet again.

After a while, when I recovered from the escapement of my words, I told her Rudy’s last words.

She already knew. She hadn’t heard, but she already knew.

The book thief already knew.