Last week held so many different activities, encounters and emotions that it felt more than just seven days.
Monday, the 5th of December, saw me arriving home from Offenburg on the dot - for a change, my trains were on time. Apart from a brief sunny period around lunch time, the day was grey but remained dry.
After work, I met at the Christmas market with three from my volunteer group. We spent a couple of hours together, and when we all had steaming mugs of mulled wine (or similar) in our hands, one of the ladies said she wanted to say something: How much she enjoyed our group, working with us towards a common goal, and that we had become friends and what that meant to her. It was touching and she echoed exactly how the rest of us felt.
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| Night sky over my neighbourhood at 7:35 pm |
Earlier that day, I had spent my lunch break at my Mum's. She cooked a nice chili con carne for the two of us, the ideal food on a cold December day, and had prepared a lovely fresh winter salad to go with it; leafy plus walnuts and bits of tangerine.
In the afternoon, my sister stopped for a cup of tea and a chat, and to leave her presents for our England parcel with me. For obvious reasons, I have not seen as much of my sister as we are used to, and I was glad for her to pop in.
On Wednesday, the 7th of December, I met my friend for a pre-work walk in the morning. After work, I took the box of presents for the family in England to the post offfice, along with all the Christmas cards and two smaller parcels for friends and family outside Germany. Surprisingly, I did not have to queue long and was in and out of the post office in less than 15 minutes, paying exactly 59,59 € for all postage. Hopefully, every card and parcel will reach its recipient in time, and in one piece!
During mid-morning on Thursday (Dec. 8), I picked several khaki fruit off the tree behind my house and took them to my elderly neighbour. She had asked for them, and seeing as nobody else was interested (I am not keen on them, and apparently the rest of the people in the house feel the same), she was more than welcome to have them. It always seems such a shame to let them go to waste.
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| I took a small detour on the way back to visit my Dad's bird. |
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| The stone lid now bears his name. |
The second funeral for my family within a few weeks took place on Friday, the 9th of December. R's death was a heavy blow to all of us, not only because it happened so soon after my Dad. The chapel was packed, and the celebrant spoke well. Gathering at the same spot on the grass where we had stood so recently felt strange, as did going to the same place for the traditional coffee afterwards.
It started to snow while we were in there; somehow, looking out of the window and seeing the soft flakes slowly fall was comforting.
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| Inside the restaurant |
O.K. and I had a late breakfast on Saturday (Dec. 10) and then walked almost 12 km, well wrapped up against the cold (-4 Celsius in the morning, that's below freezing point).
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| Almost every year, this tree on the outskirts of Pflugfelden is adorned with baubles for Christmas. Nobody knows who puts them there, or takes them down after Christmas. It was good to see them back on the tree now. |
The Third Advent Sunday (Dec. 11) started very fittingly with snow.
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| View from my kitchen window at 8:48 am... |
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| ...at 9:21... |
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| ...and at noon. |
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| What's left on the khaki tree, as seen from my bedroom. |
I spent a very leisurely morning on my own before it was time to walk to my Mum's. She had ordered a taxi to take us to the venue in town where the sing-along Christmas concert was held. We'd been there twice before (in 2018 and '19) and had enjoyed it greatly. This time, we were sure there'd be more tears than before, but strangely enough, both of us were mostly dry-eyed. The concert was beautiful and some of the pieces very touching, and it really does feel special when all the audience and the choirs on stage join their voices.
Back home, I lit three candles on my Advent wreath, talked to O.K. on the phone and watched some TV before going to bed rather early just after 10:00 pm.
I am in awe how you chronicle your days. I just work from memory - or, as aide-memoirs, to create a time line will look at photographs which, luckily, I have dated all my life and/or letters and postcards. However, and I don't dwell on it, am currently vexed on a sequence of events back in my late teens. The dates don't add up to what I remember. I asked a friend from those days to help me out. I wish I hadn't. There is now version number three. Never mind. It'll all get lost in the mist of times and I shan't be tossing and turning over the details of my life when six foot under.
ReplyDeleteTalking of graves - whilst I didn't add to the many commiserations coming your way in the wake of your father's death I hope you will know that I was with you in thought. You may remember what I said to you (when your father was still in hospital) how I envy those who will be able to grieve for their father. That envy another version of a heavy heart. No, make that a faint regret for a relationship that could have been but now never will. There are, of course, repercussions as far as the rest of my family of origin is concerned. My siblings and I used to be close. We aren't any longer (their choice not mine). Let's assume, for sake of argument and in the face of all evidence to the contrary that I will outlive my father, should I let them know now that I won't attend his funeral? Outline my reasons why? Or just let sleeping dogs lie till the time comes?
I don't wish to make my reply to you about me, yet I could do with advice by both you and, maybe, some of your readers. As an aside: It's hard to come by advice that is impartial, not coloured by someone's else agenda or allegiances.
Thanks for listening, Meike, as you would if I were to accompany you on one of your many walks,
Ursula
Ursula, if I worked from memory, my posts would be much shorter, because I'd probably forget most of what I've done during one week. I keep a calendar/diary (very old school, on paper) for every year; it serves as planner where I write down appointments as well as mini diary where I note keywords of what I've been doing or things like "first snow" and "all trains on time" (which I can rarely note truthfully!).
DeleteIf I were in your situation, I would not let anyone know beforehand what my intentions are reg. anyone's funeral. Firstly, you may change your mind when the time comes. Secondly, as you say, let sleeping dogs lie. It won't help anyone to know what you intend to do, or change their behaviour, will it?
As for regrets (or not), I sometimes make what I call my death bed test. Will I reget (not) having done this or said that on my death bed? Will I regret not having written this or that presentation for a client at this precise time, or will I regret having missed this most beautiful sunset because I was stuck at my desk?
When it comes to family, we all have only one mother and father, and there is only this one sister or brother in our family. Disagreements and even arguments and falling-outs happen; but are they worth cutting off all contact? Not in my opinion. But each family is different, and no two relationships are the same.
That's the advice I can give and is a short summary of what I would say to you if you were coming along for a walk, based on my personal experience and not tinged with my own allegiances or agenda (I obviously have neither when it comes to your family).
I believe your khaki fruits are what we call persimmons over here. I've never eaten one, although I occasionally see them in the grocery store. What does your neighbor do with them?
ReplyDeleteI love your dad's bird. What a beautiful resting place for his loved ones to visit. We should all be so lucky, to be so loved and missed when we're gone.
You are right about the khaki (or kaki) fruits also called persimmons, I have just checked it on wikipedia. The taste is sweet and fruity and really nice, but something in the fruit's acid leaves a weird feeling on my tongue, which is why I don't like them. I suppose my neighbour will just eat them, like you would eat an orange or an apple.
DeleteMy Dad's bird is taking off towards the fields and the open sky. Our friend R's bird is nearby, very fittingly.
I love your blog…we have lost so many loved ones….merry Christmas early. Not sure about the dynamics of your life as came to blog late.prayers
ReplyDeleteThank you, Brenda.
DeleteThe dynamics of my life? It is now my turn to be not sure about what you mean.
The flowing river that is your life goes on. From where I sit it seems a very busy and more importantly a fulfilled life. It is sad about your father but he is buried in a beautiful place where all the family can visit.
ReplyDeleteBoredom does not feature in my life, there is always plenty to do, places to go (preferably walk) to, people to meet, books to read and games to play.
DeleteMy Dad's grave is the place best suited to him, and our friend R's is very close by.
The days until Christmas just keep flying by for us, don't they? I must get out today and try to finish up my Christmas shopping. There is lots to plan and not much time left to plan it! Sounds like you are busily happy and it is nice to have friends and family to gather with.
ReplyDeleteI just wish those gatherings with friends and family did not have to be two funerals within a few weeks from each other.
DeleteChristmas is small enough for us; most of what I need to plan on is my train trips. Only 12 days to go until Christmas Eve.
A great deal of heartache for you and the family these past months. So much loss in so short a time can leave one breathless and overwhelmed even as one continues to move through daily work and tasks. May you find solace and peace in the days to come. I imagine the dark and lowering winter skies sometimes match your feelings as you remember you father and R with love and affection. The skies in your Dec 8th photos almost make it seem as though the sky is touching the earth. Laying a blanket over the landscape. With the winter solstice just a week away, may the incremental increases in light lead you to healing days.
ReplyDeleteMary
The sky was a good reflection of my mood that day - not cheerful, but still clearly seeing the light in the distance and the sun behind those grey clouds.
DeleteAnd as always, walking helps; the day R died, I received the message just after lunch and left work soon after that, getting off the train two stops before my town and walking the rest. There were a lot of tears during those two hours of walking, but I needed that.
A very full week indeed! I find it hard nowadays to understand how I ever managed to fit both work and a much more busy social life into my days and weeks... Time is very weird thing, sometimes! (Maybe it gets less elastic as we grow older??)
ReplyDeleteTime can indeed do funny things, I agree. Even though I am still working full time, I now wonder how I ever managed to be at the office every morning between 7:00 and 7.30, and out all day. Admittedly, for much of that time I was a two-person household and my husband did almost all the house work (except ironing and cleaning the cat's toilet). But I am really glad that I can work from home most of the time now, it saves a lot of standing about on cold and windy platforms.
DeleteI love your outlook on life Meike - your honesty and pragmatism shine through in all you write and share with us. Anyone who has you as a friend is extremely fortunate. . . . . and both Bob and I chat often about how we would love to meet up with you some day! Meanwhile, thoughts are with you and your Mum as you make Christmas still lovely for you despite your dear Dad not being there. May the quietness of the snow and the warmth of holiday lights make your days and nights peaceful.
ReplyDeleteHugs from us both, Mary.
Thank you, dear Mary, and hugs back to you and Bob.
DeleteWhat you said about me as a friend is one of the nicest things someone has said to me in a while, and a gift I value highly.
With your extensive traveling all over the world, it is almost strange that you've never come across my small part of it!
I was listening to a recording of P.J. Kavanagh (1931-2015) before reading your post.
ReplyDeleteTwo of his poems (The Poetry Archive online) coloured my reading of your words.
Something About & Beyond Decoration.
Something about ... your friends at the Christmas Market ...
Walnuts & tangerines ...
Snow falling outside the restaurant window after the funeral service for R ...
Beyond decoration ... the stone lid for your father in the grass, just his name and the dates of his birth and death. Wolfgang Holscher.
Kavanagh's first wife Sally died in Indonesia after a short illness in about 1959.
He wrote of it in his autobiography, The Perfect Stranger.
The second poem Beyond Decoration is about his recovery from her death when he worked as an actor with the Old Vic in London.
Something about your town after the snow fell, the decorated trees in Pflugfelden.
Something about the skies darkening above those winter fields.
Your post is a poem in itself, Jack.
DeleteThank you.
Oh I will definitely try your mum's salad idea, it sounds delicious! Your Advent posts are so festive and nice, Meike.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Jenny. Obviously, apart from the funeral and the grief that is still very much present, I am actually enjoying this time of year.
DeleteThe bird memorial is very lovely.
ReplyDeleteI'd never heard of persimmons being called khakis before, you learn something new all the time. I love them but if I get hold of one I always wait til it is basically jelly as that is when it is sweetest!
Now I wonder whether we ate our khaki too early; it was soft-ish to the touch but not so soft as to turn into jelly next. Anyway, I only have one left, and I intend to give that one to another neighbour as part of a "Christmas plate" with a candle in the middle and a few choccies.
Delete