Family Echoes....

I wish I had some wonderful memories of my grandparents, of visiting them in the school holidays, being spoiled and cuddled endlessly as a child. However this is sadly not the case.

My family immigrated from Germany to Australia in 1971. I was just five years old, the youngest child of three and only daughter. We left behind my grandmothers, who from this time period, I have no recollection of.

In 1975, my mother and I returned to Germany for six weeks. As I was then nine years old, I can remember quite clearly visiting my father's mother. I remember sitting at a small table, my mother, my grandmother and I, enjoying afternoon tea in my grandmother's quaint, prim and proper home, situated in a large northern city. Actually, what I recall only too well is gently kicking my mum under the table numerous times and letting her know in no uncertain terms that I was bored and very much wanted to leave!

My grandmother (Kate) had a proud and stern demeanour, or so it seemed to my young mind. My understanding is she never completely accepted my mother as being my father's chosen bride, however I am told no woman would have been good enough for my dad in my grandmother's eyes.

I was in primary school when she passed away in her early seventies from Parkinsons disease.

During the trip to Germany, my mother and I resided mostly with mum's mother (Erica). She owned a hotel in a beautiful little southern country town (my mother's birth place), which she had, together with her husband – my grandfather – hand built of rocks.

I remember her sitting at one of the tables in the corner of the hotel with both legs outstretched on a chair before her. I later learned she had numerous medical issues concerning her heart, and one of the prominent symptoms at the time was serious swelling in her legs. As a young child I also recall her always looking somewhat sad.

My grandmother had given birth to five children, and during her hospital stay and in labour with her fifth child, my grandfather packed up his belongings and left her for a younger woman! Grandmother had no choice, but to manage the hotel and parent her children alone.

My mother, who was the oldest and a teenager by then, became her youngest sister's 'mother' for the first two years of life, while in the evenings she was expected to help out in the busy tavern.

I never met my mother's father (Otto). I believe he lived somewhere in Germany and died in his eighties some years ago through natural causes. My grandmother passed away peacefully in hospital from heart failure at the young age of sixty-two. However, they say she died from a 'broken heart', as she never emotionally recovered from her husband's abandonment.

My father's father (Heinrich) was a respected, prominent school teacher. It was during World War ll, my father's family was in the process of fleeing from the Russians. Times had been so tough and food was scarce. My father used to tell me tales of how, as a thirteen year old, he would steal bread or potatoes whenever the opportunity arose to help feed his family.

Grandfather died from malnutrition on a Christmas Eve, in my father's arms on a fleeing train. He had been a solid, tall, fit man and at the time of his passing, appeared like a walking skeleton. Many people lost their lives this way, and many had become too weak to fight illnesses.

I can't imagine, even for a second, how soul-destroying and painful that era must have been.

I would have dearly loved to have known all my grandparents well, especially my father's father. I feel my connection with him is the strongest, even in death.

However, I will cherish the stories and memories handed down from my parents and keep my grandparents in a special place in my heart, regardless of circumstances that happened....