theinbetweenismine

just a girl living the expat life

Archives for March 2010

Memories

filed under: family, guest blog post

Since I am still in Germany and haven’t had much time online, I have three lovely ladies fill in for me this week. Today I bring you a guest post from Amy, one of my newer blogger friends and fellow crocheter :)
Congenial to my recent posts about my Granddad, she’ll be sharing some memories from her grandparents with us. Thank you, Amy! I’ll be back with an update soon.
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When I was a little girl, I used to eagerly await the hot days of summer.  Not just because school was out, but because I knew that summer meant the thing that was the highlight of most years: a trip to visit my grandparents.
My grandparents lived in Arizona, just outside of Phoenix.  Sometimes, we would drive from my house in Northern California, me situated in between the two of them in their Mazda pickup truck, with Papa telling me stories and Grandma feeding me snacks and the three of us laughing and playing 20 Questions the whole drive there.
Arizona seemed like a magical place to me.  The unforgiving heat meant that we could swim for hours in the neighbor’s pool.  There was black cherry vanilla frozen yogurt and trips to the library for an endless stack of books.  As I got older, I learned to type on their Mac’s while they worked on their consulting business.  I cried whenever it was time to go home, because I had such a good time seeing them.  Throughout the year, I came to expect a weekly phone call, letters with a stick of Carefree gum and to know that at least a few symphony concerts or soccer games a year, my grandparents would be in the audience.  I never doubted their love, or their prescence, even from far away.
These childhood visits laid the foundation for two of the most important relationships in my life, still.  When I am in the middle of a hard time, I know I can call on my grandparents to love me, to listen to me, and to support me however they can.

I know that San is grieving the loss of the grandfather she loved so dearly.  And I know that someday, probably sooner than I would like, I will face this situation myself.  But until then, I will call my grandparents, and revel in those warm Arizona afternoons, from long ago…

My Granddad’s funeral

filed under: family, home

This is just a quick hello. I am sorry I haven’t been in touch earlier. The last few days home with my family have just flown by so quickly.
I arrived in Germany safely on Thursday night and was picked up by my BIL. The rest of my family was attending an intercession-service for my Granddad when I got in. We had some dinner at my parents’  house and it was kind of a weird feeling – the joy of seeing my family and the sadness for the occasion of my being here at the same time.

However,  my Granddad’s funeral on Friday was everything (and more) that we could have asked for. There were many, many people at the church service at 9 a.m.
My Granddad was a highly decorated “Schütze” (marksman) in the local “Schützenverein” (marksmen club – I have no idea if this translation makes any sense, but it was the only thing I could find on Wikipedia) and he was awarded the Bundesverdienstkreuz (Federal Cross of Merit) a few years ago. There were two big articles and a couple of obituaries in our local newspaper and from that you can tell that he was well-known around here. Many mourners came in their respective uniforms to pay their last respect to my Granddad.

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The funeral service was very personal and touching. The pastor – someone who had worked in my Granddad’s congregation for many, many years and who married J and I four years ago – came all the way from Belgium to hold the ceremony. He briefly recapitulated my Granddad’s life which was – save for WWII – a good and happy life revolving around his family and dear friends, and the thought that he is finally – after 28 years – reunited with my Grandma (however that may be) is somewhat consoling. It was also just heart-warming to see so many people show up to say their goodbyes.

There were about 80 people at the luncheon after the burial service. I am not sure if that tradition is wide-spread in the US, but in Germany it is very common to invite family and close friends for a gathering following the funeral. Anecdotes from the past were exchanged and it was a casual atmosphere to commemorate the dead and to celebrate his life. I know many people have mixed feelings about these gatherings following funerals (including myself), but I can positively say that I’ll only have good memories of my Granddad’s funeral reception.

All things considered, it was a really positive experience and I am thankful and glad that I have been able to be here with my family during this emotional and sad time.


While I am away…

filed under: FYI, travel

Thank you all so, so very much for the sweet and heart-felt comments on my last blog post. It really means so much to me to know that you are thinking about me!

It’s almost 6:30 a.m. and I am about all packed. I’ll soon head to the office, as I’ll be working a half day today, and will catch my transatlantic flight in LA later this evening.

Since I’ll be gone for a week (with limited online access – I won’t be taking my laptop to Germany. GASP! I know, completely unthinkable!), is anyone interested in doing a guest post while I am away?
I have never done this before, but think this would be a good opportunity to try it out!

You could write about anything, maybe – in light of the recent events – a story related to your own grandparents, or if you have one of your own favorite blog posts that you would like to see re-published and share with us, that would be great too.

Let me know!!

I’ll try to be in touch as soon as I can.

Letting go

filed under: f*ck that, family, Germany, home

My Granddad passed away Sunday night.

It all feels like a blur. I’ve listened to my sister cry on the phone, I listened to my Dad’s calm and collected voice when he called and I heard myself scream inside.

I was two months away from going to visit again. Two months. And then, within two days he just left us. I am crushed that I couldn’t be at the hospital, that I couldn’t hold his hand one last time.

My sister and I were very close with my Granddad. We spent a whole lot of time at his house when we were kids. He lived close by and was always very present in our lives.
In the last few years, whenever I had to get on a plane again after a visit home, he was afraid that he wasn’t going to see me again. I told him to “not be silly” and that he was going to live for a long, long time and that we were going to see each other very soon. Just last week he had told me how excited he was that it was “not very long until” I was going to come home. I joked with him about how quick time goes and that I’d be there before he knew it. And then sometimes, time goes quicker.

He passed away in his sleep, without any pain, without any fear. I couldn’t ask for a better way for him (or anyone) to die. I am sure my Grandma was waiting for him on the other side (or, I’d like to think she did).
I am glad he didn’t wake up again just to find himself completely impaired and robbed of all human dignity. I wouldn’t have wanted that for him, he wouldn’t have wanted that for himself.
He was a strong, stubborn and proud man who had survived WWII, who raised two wonderful sons, who lived and cared for himself in his own home until he died. He also was an active member in the community. My sister called this morning and told me jokingly, “You won’t believe the list of people  that he left behind, who are supposed to be contacted upon his death. It’s like a 10-page paper”.  Yes, my Granddad was well-liked and well-connected.
J had joked about my Granddad’s old-schoolish “stubbornness” many times, but by his reaction to his death yesterday, I could tell that he as well deeply admired him.

One thing that hit me yesterday – and excuse me, if that might seem quite obvious to you – was: My dad lost his dad. He was the last actual grandparent that my sister and I had left. My Dad’s Mom died a long time ago when we were only six years old. My Dad was barely 33 when it happened. He was so young. How was he able to deal with losing his Mom at such a young age? Now, that he is 60 himself, does he feel different about losing his dad? Does it get “easier” when you get older? Or do you learn more acceptance of the inevitable?

The only thing I know is that I am terrified of losing my parents some day.

I’ll be getting on a plane on Wednesday, so that I can be home and attend my Granddad’s funeral on Friday. He deserves for me to be there. I know it’s one hell of a trip, but I need to be with my family right now.

Granddad and San

Love you, Granddad!