Tante Gretel

The death of a loved one can be a bittersweet sorrow.

I just found out that my Dad's godmother passed away two days ago. My Tante Gretel is gone.

She was an amazing woman. I'm glad I had the opportunity to know her. She would stand in line for hours for a loaf of bread to bring home to my dad's family. When government officials made a last minute demand for American dollars before allowing my dad's family to leave Poland she vanished - only to show up a couple hours later with the money. What she had to do or sell to get that money, I never found out.

I visited her a number of times in Germany. She'd given me a bagful of jewellery - telling me the history behind the special pieces. One of my favourite pieces is an necklace of metal spirals - a present from a male friend. I've never seen anything like it.

I can only begin to imagine all the hurt, sorrow and devastation she'd seen in her life. She never married - from some of the stories she told me and the look in her eyes as she'd let a sentence trail off - I'm not sure that the decision had been hers to make.

She lived through World War II. On my last visit with her she told me stories about life before the war. Stories of how life changed when Hitler came into power. The sports centre was re-named after him, as were a number of other prominent landmarks in her town. She'd go quiet and then with a slight shake of the head she'd continue talking.

Of the war itself she was vague and I didn't want to pry. "Es war schrecklich. Furchtbar."

One of the things that saddens me most about her death, is that as far as I know, no one was there for her. Her entire life she'd lived helping and looking after others, but when her time came, no one was there.