My Dad

Three weeks ago today, on Tuesday, the 11th of October, I saw my Dad for the very last time. As you know from my previous posts, he had been in hospital for more than five weeks already. The same as nearly every day during those five weeks, my Mum, my sister and I went to see him that afternoon. He was having difficulties breathing and was on an oxygen supply.

In the early hours of Wednesday, October 12, he simply stopped breathing and died in his sleep. 

My Mum got the phonecall at around 3:30 in the morning and then rang my sister and me. I had been awake around that time, too, and had only gone back to bed a few minutes before the call. 

Wolfgang Hölscher 31.01.1942 - 12.10.2022

My Dad was 80 years old in January. He'd been in and out of hospital a few times this year, and we had known about the risks his last big surgery was carrying. Still, when it actually did happen, it hit us hard.

My sister, our Dad and I, ca. 1970

Early afternoon of that day, my Mum and I went to the undertakers' together. The lady who talked to us there was wonderful, showing the right mixture of professionalism and empathy. As I am sure all of you know, there is plenty to organise, to decide and to do when someone dies, but having an undertaker who takes as much as possible off your hands is so very helpful.

There was still enough left for the three of us to do, and it was obvious once more how good it is that we live within easy walking distance of each other.

My sister and I picked up his belongings at the hospital later that afternoon. The nurse who handed us his bag had tears in her eyes, too; they were all so kind to our Dad and looked after him well, doing more than their duty.

My parents at Ludwigsburg's Horse Market, 2016

...and at the same event in 2012. This is one of my favourite photos of my parents.

The funeral was last Friday, and in spite of it being a sad day, it was also a beautiful day - it was good to see so many friends, relatives and neighbours. 

One of my Dad's life-long hobbies was watching birds and identifying them by their voices; he was really good at that, and his love of nature rubbed off on me and my sister. When we learned that there was a "flock of birds" gravesite at the cemetery closest to my parents' house, we knew that this was what he would have chosen for himself. Each bird there marks one tomb, with the urn underneath, covered with a round stone lid the size of a large dinner plate and engraved with the person's name. The birds and the stone are meant to be the only markers; people are not supposed to care for the place like one would do with traditional graves. The flowers you see in my pictures were from the funeral and will be removed by the cemetery gardeners.

My Dad's blue bird, taking off towards the fields and wide open skies.

Somehow it takes a sad event like this to bring people back together; I had not seen some of our relatives in years.

For me, with all my sadness and grieving for my Dad, there has also been a lot of gratitude from the moment I learned of his death. Gratitute that his suffering finally had come to an end, and gratitude for having had such a wonderful Dad for so many years.

He was around all my life; I never knew this world without him in it. Now the three of us have to get used to living with his memories and a Dad-shaped gap in our lives. My Mum and my Dad were together for 62 years - she was 16 and he was 18 when they met.

Here is a short link list for you if you are interested:

• Dad's 70th birthday is here
• First time I showed my Dad on my blog is here
• Dad's spud salad (the best ever!) is here 
• My parents' 55th wedding anniversary is here

With some of you I have been in touch outside this blog, so you knew (or could imagine) what was going on since I last posted here. Thank you for allowing me this time to get sorted a bit before I wrote this post.