I miss my Grandparents; I cannot accept they're not there anymore. They were my family, the ones that came over for Christmas, the ones I used to visit every second weekend, the ones that complained about me, laughed with me, travelled with me and spoiled me. The ones that made my little world seem to work. I always felt so home, it was a secure feeling of comfort I had when I was with them, I of course had typical arguments with them mostly about me being to loud or to talkative but it was ok.
They went through a hard time during WW2, my Grandfather had to enter the military because he didn't join the NSDAP (something I am so proud of!), he saw his friends die but survived nearly unharmed. My Grandmother had to make sure her sister and brother would survive this, trying to get enough food with the little amount of meal vouchers they had and helping my Great-grandmother where she could. Their home got destroyed completely and they lived in an emergency home for years until the house was build up again. During this time my Mother was born. They always wanted more kids but my Grandmother had a miscarriage and then she had to have a hysterectomy, something, I think, she never could accept, never really talking about it again and least of all with me.

My Grandfather: a retired dock worker/concrete foreman, the most fantastic Grandpa on earth. He had a stiff leg because of an accident at work, he flopped into an open hole on a ship deck and since then he always had his walking stick. And cars with automatic transmission. He was a big man with silver-grey hair, moustache, glasses and a mariner hat. Everything he knew he learned after school, and he knew a lot. He always impressed me and made me laugh with his mischievous but never mean jokes, I was (I am) so proud of him. When he died my Grandmother had to move out into a smaller flat and I had to say goodbye to so many things, the garden he cultivated with passion, the fish pond, the usual talk in the evenings, the dinning room, the board games, eating cake on the terrace and laughing at him for falling asleep and snoring so loud every neighbour could hear it, the flat jokes and his laughter, which I know I loved but by now I've forgotten how it sounds. He left an incurable gap.

My Grandmother: a proud woman. She would've never done something against her believes, in that case she's never been free but who am I to judge this. I had a lot of respect towards her - even though I sometimes missed showing her this - and our relationship was distanced according to the one I had with my Grandfather. She was very pedantic and way more organised than him, made sure he took his pills, made sure the dog (Pelle, a lovely little black - and later deaf - Schnauzer) took his pills, made sure I brushed my hair and teeth. Of course, everything she cooked was fantastic and I really miss these little struggles she and my Mother had on Christmas about the canard and how to stew it the right way. When my Grandfather died, we talked more and more and after 2 or 3 years I began to laugh with her, talk with her about things even my Mother was surprised about. We got along so well, 3 women backbiting on everything we didn't like. In 2003 she got really sick and we were all scared but she survived, a few days later I told her I knew she wouldn't die but she didn't really answer. One month later she was dead.

It hit me so bad. With both of them gone I had no anchor in my life anymore. The rest of the family kind of drifted apart, they had their own children and grandchildren, their own little family, so it was only my Mother and me. To me this isn't enough. I asked myself so many times what they'd think of me now, if they'd be disappointed by me, or if they'd try to believe in me, I don't know and I will never know and it makes me feel so helpless. I hope that, wherever they are, they're happy and most importantly, together.
I hope you two are happy.

I will stop here.


05:15 + 23.12.05

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