Germany – Taking Oma Home

It’s been a tough blog entry for me to write this time around. This story is primarily about my Oma (grandmother in German). It’s been difficult for me to finish because every time I start I get ultra emotional and find it difficult to formulate into words how amazing and special she was to me. I want this post to be as close to perfect that I can get it, she was and is worth every word.

omiyoung

This is Margaretha Heck, my Oma, or Omi as I called her from the time I could speak. She died suddenly, in November of 2012; It was the single hardest day of my life. This -oh so- strong, brilliant, eloquent, kind, caring and wonderful woman basically raised me from the time I was a baby until I was fourteen years old while both of my parents worked. I learned so much from her and idolized her in a way that I cannot explain. She is my heart, and always will be. I miss her terribly. Just writing this and remembering her face, her laugh, her voice….

It was very painful for me for a long time because I never really got to say goodbye. I didn’t get to say goodbye to the most important person in my life and I lost my heart that day, in more ways than one.

I decided the day she died, or very very soon after, that I wanted to do something for her that she always talked about doing but always made excuses why she shouldn’t, she was pretty stubborn like that. I was a little late but, I took her home, one last time. I wish she could have been alive to see it. I hope she still did, in some way.

I knew during this trip I had to go to Germany to accomplish what I set out to do. It ended up being our last stop before heading back home (thank you Cecile for agreeing to go there, it meant a lot to me).

I enlisted the help of my dad for driving directions from Frankfurt to Bühlerzell and he decided to print off about twenty maps, all section by section, complete with his red marker notes. Thanks dad!

Bühlerzell is a town of approximately fifteen hundred people. This was where Omi was born and grew up. Her father was the principal of the school, which also doubled as their home. This home is now city hall, so it made it easy to find, along with dad’s maps.

My plan was for her as much as it was for me. I wanted to spread her ashes at the place she was born in order to fulfill my promise to myself of taking her home and in the process getting to say goodbye how I wanted and needed to. I originally did not plan on visiting her oldest friend from childhood, Tilly, as well as the extended family that that brought with it. I did change my mind however, as I realized that they never got to say goodbye either and for me to be selfish and only think of myself in this situation would have been exactly what Omi would have given me shit for. So, thinking of her and what she would want, I buried half of the ashes in the flower gardens at city hall (it just so happened that the flowers were her favorite ones) and took the container with the other half and ventured a block and half down the road to Tilly’s house.

I knocked on the door and the look of surprise on Tilly’s face was great. However it was because my dad told them I was going to be coming the day before I actually got there. They had invited the entire family over and everyone was gathered there to see us and we didn’t show (Thanks again, Dad :P).

See, the issue is that I do not speak German very well. I understand it and can listen but I cannot communicate back which is why having the family there the day before was important, as some can speak English. So what did Tilly do now that we were a day late? She called her grandchildren to come by as translators instead. The day went by swimmingly. A few hiccups in communication but an overall great experience. So with the day winding to a close, I presented her with the container with the last half of Omi’s ashes. Things got emotional and we shared a moment that will forever be ingrained in my head. She looked at me with teary eyes and thanked me many times. I saw it then, the same thing I felt when I buried her at the flowers. A small sense of closure, and while sad, a small happiness that she now gets to say goodbye as well.

I’ve been told since coming back home that when Tilly dies then Omi’s ashes will be buried in the coffin with her so that they can remain best friends, together in the afterlife. I found this especially heartwarming and thoughtful. Tilly gets to do what she needs to do for herself and for Omi as much as I did and I am glad that I changed my mind about going there. It was necessary and the right thing to do.

Since getting back to Winnipeg, the piece of my heart is still missing, but the rest of my heart is getting stronger and picking up the slack. I don’t know if I even want the piece back fully because I don’t want to forget. I want to always be able to remember her face and mannerisms from memory instead of pictures. This lets me do that.

Rest in Peace Omi, I’m glad we got to say goodbye. I will always miss you, love you and cherish you for the the person you were. I want to thank you for helping me so much and influencing me in all the ways you did to make me the person I am today.

Ok, well, that’s the end of Europe. I still have work to do, a recap blog, pictures to post and a couple of other goodies to deal with.

I’m thinking about going to Thailand for three weeks, pretty soon actually, perhaps within the next month or so. More on that later.

I wanted to thank all the people that took the time to read my story so far and to those that have followed me along the way. I will continue to put out content as quickly as I can.

Krakow to Auschwitz

This post will be split in two parts. The first will be about Krakow and happy and the second will be about Auschwitz and quite sad.

I will not be posting pictures of Auschwitz as I personally believe it would be in poor taste and not appropriate to do so on social media. Those that want to see the pictures can either e-mail me directly, or wait until I get home and I can show you in person.

So that being said, Poland was not what I expected at all. When I thought of Poland as a destination I assumed it would be a drab, cold, grey place where no one smiled. I landed and was immediately taken aback. There was color everywhere, happy people, green landscapes and rolling hills. It was not what I envisioned in the slightest. I was extremely grateful that my previous assumptions were incorrect. Now granted, I did not do a lot of research on Poland (Krakow) as we were only going to be there for thirty or so hours. I broke my own rule about lack of understanding a place before I got there. Shame on me I suppose but maybe you don’t need to completely research places, as that may just ruin the surprise when you get there.

We had a fantastic meal at a restaurant about a block from the hotel. The equivalent of fifty dollars got us beers, cider, two appetizers and two mains. At home a similar meal at a similar restaurant would have been three to four times that much. This was the first indicator we had about the cost of things here, and it was looking like an inexpensive place to be. Again, quality of food versus cost was astounding. We liked it so much we went back the next day to try other things. Total food we had in two visits there: boar sausage, cold beet and hot rye soup, rabbit loin wrapped in bacon, ribs, pork knuckle, many beers and drinks. All of the food was great and I would recommend Straka (name of the place) to anyone going to Krakow.

Auschwitz, a one hour or so drive from Krakow. I know quite a bit about WWII history and what went on there however my primary reasons was to see what it felt like to walk the same paths that the prisoners did, to see the actual places that people were lined up in front of a German officer and separated from friends and family and either be put to work or sent to die. I could read about the things that happened and learn about them but to actually be there definitely threw me for a loop. The second we entered the main gate of the small camp, Auschwitz I, you could see it in some people’s faces, and I’m sure you could see it in mine as well. It was sadness. The part of this section of the tour that I lost it in was seeing two thousand kilograms of hair, sitting in a glass enclosure, that spanned an entire room. This was the hair of approximately seventy thousand women that entered Auschwitz but never got to leave. It was heartbreaking to see this as well as other rooms filled with confiscated shoes, thousands and thousands of shoes. Hundreds of suitcases and luggage, in another room, that they brought to these camps without realizing what was happening to them. They packed their lives away, one suitcase per person, and everything was ripped away from them. Approximately one and a half million people were murdered in Auschwitz before the end of the war and many children were sent to Germany for re-education and to become Germanized. Seeing the temporary gas chamber that was still standing there was tough to deal with as well. You could see what appeared to be finger nail marks in the walls where people were trying to claw their way out. They used a poison delivery system that could take up to twenty minutes to suffocate the people inside. It was genocide at it’s worst. Thinking about the panic and sheer terror that people must have gone through trying to survive an impossible situation is almost unbearable.

The second part of the tour was a short distance away at Auschwitz-Birkenau, the largest of the three camps at Auschwitz. The others dwarfed in comparison. The concentration camp here was housing one hundred thousand prisoners at a time. This was the site that had multiple large gas chambers that the Nazis used to kill up to two thousand people at once, per chamber. They also had crematoriums situated close by to use as disposal methods. All of these buildings were destroyed when the camp was liberated. There is a monument there that serves as a reminder that we should not repeat the past and to let it be known that this was the location of one of the most tragic and unthinkable things to happen in human history. You can see rows upon rows of barracks that housed these prisoners. They were often made to work over ten hours a day in whatever weather was present, given two meals a day that served as perhaps one third of their needed intake and allowed to go to the bathroom only when instructed (they were counted down from thirty seconds, then removed from the latrine). This was brutal, daily life for these people. If they weren’t starved or worked to death, they were killed systematically by a group of people that viewed them as cattle, not people.

Even thinking about it while writing this nearly brings me to tears. I did end up feeling many emotions throughout the day. Anger, sadness, empathy and maybe even guilt. It was hard to differentiate between what I was feeling at times, because I didn’t always know what I was feeling. It was a lot to take in and caused a lot of emotions all at once. I still find myself having difficulty with processing everything I saw and felt, and likely will have trouble for a long time to come.

I think everyone should go here once in their lives, regardless of religion, historical background or racial heritage. It’s a tragic part of history that I think everyone needs to experience and witness and learn about.

Next up, five days in Prague and a bit of time to relax, maybe. Keep your eyes on the horizon!