(1/2) I didn’t think my German was that good. I took some independent classes during high school in the US (at an institute a town over from mine, as it wasn’t in my high school curriculum); my dad was so happy and proud about that. And then I was offered a scholarship by the US government to live/work in Germany for one year in my early 20s. I learned German “intensively” during this year. Though I had a lot of British and American friends during this time, and probably didn’t practice as much as I should have. Anyway, I didn’t think I “really” spoke German anymore (or ever?)….until I had to. I was thrown into planning a funeral and communicating with all his friends and family in Germany during the aftermath of his sudden and shocking death. And somehow, I did it. I understood almost everything and communicated exactly what I needed to. I say “almost” because there was one instance at the funeral home wherein we were talking about ashes. My dad had instructed that he wanted an urn burial in the local cemetery. But I asked the funeral director if we (my sisters and I) could also have 3 small urns as well, to take back to our homes. Then, there was a massive debate about legality, borders, restrictions, policies. I understood maybe 30% of the big debate. But then the conclusion was…yea, you can. While that was great news, I still will always remember that I’ll never understand the massive debate preceding this conclusion. So, after the funeral my sister flew back to the US with 2 urns (one for her, one for my elder sister). The 3rd stayed with me in Europe and of course the main, larger urn was buried in Andernach during his funeral.
Picture: my fathers urn site in Andernach, right after the chapel service and right before the procession and burial.
#grief#griefsupport#kummer#traurig#griefjourney#griefsucks#papa#dad#daddio#imissyou#death#trauma#love