We took this picture of us in the summer of 2008 on my last visit before i left for a stay in the US for a couple of months. Looking at the series of pictures we took back then i realized once more how handsome grandpa must have been as a young men in his twenties. When i left to the US once more in January 2009 we sad good bye to each other. It was a hard and somewhat awkward moment. We both pretended we would see each other again (and we will), but i guess deep inside we knew how unlikely it was given the serious state of his illness.
When he died in February i happened to be in New York. I guess i will never forget that day. With my best friend we entered the Apple Store on 5th Avenue. We needed to check email, because the phone battery had left us, we could not figure out the phones in the street, but needed to get in touch with a third friend we had missed. I opened my email and found the message my brother had sent a few minutes ago. It was almost real-time. My memory of the next hours is more like a film that i can watch, of myself. Trying to figure out a way to call home, feeling lost and wrong in this crazy city. Sitting in a hotel lobby crying, while talking on the phone and a stranger putting a bag with chocolates into my lap. That night we were at a pub and raised three pints of beer in his memory. I started to smile again, regaining a peace of mind, letting his soul depart.
Today he would have been 81. Grandpa loved beer and whenever i have a bit here or there i immediately have to think of him. Oftentimes i cheer him silently, smiling at him, taking the first gulp for him. It is beautiful to me how detailed my memory of him remains, recalling odors, the touch of his cheek, his voice, his laughter. I feel his presence a lot. Now that the grief has abated we enjoy talking about him with granny, with my mother. We laugh together remembering the old times. We have our rituals. I am thankful how the family remains 'complete'.
Much of my actions today, as this post, are dedicated to him. I know that he is watching us right now and i just have to smile. He was a wonderful man with an interesting life. An orphan, raised by communists during the Nazi regime (imagine this for a moment!), survived WWII and the post-war times, he built GDR and he saw it shatter, he saw Germany reunited, and the birth of a new millennium and century. He was a man of wit, he had a huge heart and he loved to construct and build things by himself, in good and handy DIY style. The dollhouse he made for me when i was a small girl (it had real electricity!) is safely stored in the cellar for my future daughter one day to inherit. He read several newspapers daily and was always eager for political discussion. He definitely had his opinion.
He was good old grandpa and will always be.
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