I Get That Now

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Berlin, Dad, death, Diana Schwenk, family, Father, Germany, grief, growing up, Heinz Schwenk, Hump Day Chronicles, life, Life's like that, love, memories, Opa, parents, Relationships, stories

Opa, 66, with his Daschund (Cherry) in 1973.

Opa (my paternal grandfather) became a father at 27 years old when Dad was born on June 28, 1934.

Born in 1907, Opa lived through two world wars and the depression. Over the years, Dad told me many stories of his childhood growing up in Berlin, Germany.

Like the time he stole a horse from the Russians so that his family and neighbours could eat meat.

And the time he and his teenaged buddies lifted a Volkswagen over the owners fenced-in yard with a small gate – too small to drive a car through!

But I know very little about Opa. I know that he was raised by his aunt, and that he may not have known some of his siblings.

And once when Dad was in elementary school, he wet his pants in class because the teacher wouldn’t let him go to the bathroom. Opa went to the school the next day to talk to the teacher. Dad never knew what Opa had said, but the teacher told Dad that day that if he ever needed to go to the bathroom, he had permission to just go, didn’t even have to raise his hand to ask.

I know that Opa was athletic and participated in track and field. I know from our visits to Germany as a family, that Opa struggled with alcohol and by the time he was a senior, a half bottle of beer was enough to do him in. Yet even at a ripe old age, Opa could still walk up the stairs on his hands.

Opa passed away on June 28, 1987 (My Dad’s 53rd birthday). Opa had suffered a stroke on a Thursday. Dad booked the earliest flight he could get but unfortunately Opa passed away around the same time Dad’s plane landed in Berlin that Sunday.

I remember when Dad phoned to tell me Opa was dead. He was so calm on the phone, so matter-of-fact. I, on the other hand, burst into tears. Dad tried to console me. When I composed myself, it dawned on me to ask Dad how he was doing and comment on how awful it must be that his father died on his birthday. “I’m fine. Everyone dies eventually Diana. I’m ok.”

On June 28, 2012, I happened to be back east at my parent’s place for Dad’s 78th Birthday. We were talking about this and that when suddenly out of nowhere, Dad with glistening eyes said, “It’s 25 years ago today that my father died.”

I touched Dad’s arm.

What could I say?

Maybe you never quite get over the death of your father.

I get that now.

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

 

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Looking for an old picture

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200 words, Diana Schwenk, Diana's Enormous Book of Quotes, family, friends, growing up, humour, laughter, memories, Opa, Tampax

You can’t always get what you want… ~ Rolling Stones

Opa Schwenk, Berlin 1973

I’ve spent the last few days tearing my house apart looking for an old picture.

I recently connected with an old friend on Facebook.

Some 35+ years ago, four of us dressed up like the members of KISS for Halloween.

I had the picture. I’ve seen as recently as three years ago, but I can’t find it now. 😦

Not getting what you want, is not unique to me – it has been a reality throughout human history.

I have not found said photo. But I’ve found treasures I didn’t even remember having; including today’s photo of Opa.

Once when my grandparents were visiting us in Canada, Opa walked to our local shopping Centre to pick up some supplies.

My folks were at work and us kids were in school.

When I got home, he handed me a box of Tampax, asking if I could use them.

Apparently Tampax made tissues in Germany. He wanted tissues. Tampons weren’t of use to him unless he stuck them up his nose.

~ DIANA’S ENORMOUS BOOK OF QUOTES ~

Have you found what you’re looking for? 

Brotchen and Beer

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Berlin, Cobblestone, Diana Schwenk, Diana's Enormous Book of Quotes, family, growing up, History, memories, Opa, Relationships, Remember

To live in the hearts of those we love is never to die ~ Thomas Campbell

I remember walking with you early one morning.

My hand in yours we chatted about nothing and everything on the cobblestone road.

Brotchen for breakfast and a beer in a paper bag

“Shh,” you told me, “…it’s our secret.” – I nodded my reply.

I remember sitting at your feet asking questions

listening to your stories, absorbing every word.

Hungry for the old stories about the war

About our family history.

I wished we didn’t live so far apart.

Yet my memories are so precious and held treasured in my heart

I remember your face, how small in stature, how thin you were

and how you amazed me that time you walked up the stairs on your hands.

The sound of your laugh and how your eyes twinkled.

I remember the last time I saw you

As our taxi pulled away

I turned and looked out the back window

You stood in the middle of the road

Crying as if you knew it was goodbye.

~ DIANA’S ENORMOUS BOOK OF QUOTES ~

That was so long ago but sometimes I still miss you Opa