When I got off the train and I saw both my parents waiting for me at the platform, I knew something was wrong.
When I was a kid we lived in my grandparents house. It was the house my mom had lived in for all her life. She was raised there as the youngest of nine children and when she got pregnant at the age of 19 and all her siblings had already moved out my father moved in and we had the first floor (that would be second floor for all you Americans) for ourselves.
This is why it seems to me that I was partly raised by my grandparents. They were around all the time and I could go downstairs and play games with my grandmother or have her read stories to me or look at the art books they had. When I was older it became some kind of a ritual that I would watch Columbo with them in the evening. I remember my grandfather sitting in his chair and my grandmother and me on the couch, my head sometimes in her lap.
We moved when I was thirteen. My parents had found a big house in the next town and decided to buy it and we moved there in spring 1994.
By that time my grandmother must already have been diagnosed with cancer.
I don't remember much about her cancer story. I didn't really feel involved. That's why I can't tell you when she first was diagnosed with cancer and what kind of cancer it was. I remember her going to the hospital more often and changing her hair from curls to straight.
After we moved I never came to see her at the hospital. I didn't refuse to go there, but I guess nobody asked me to.
She came to live with us on April 11th 1995. That was her 80th birthday. My parents had emptied out their bedroom and put her special hospital-kind bed in there. They would sleep in the dining room, which was next to the bedroom and for the time being was no longer a dining room anymore.
When I saw her for the first time in month I started to cry. I didn't realize how bad it was until I saw her. I remember my cousin holding me outside the house while all the others were inside already. After all, it was her 80th birthday.
Thinking back on how quickly things changed she was doing pretty good on her birthday. She had no severe pains and could talk and even walk around a little bit. She would stay with us until she died.
She would stay with us for eleven days.
My grandmother couldn't sleep because her skin hurt from all the lying. It got sore and I think she suffered from more than one kind of cancer, one of them skin cancer. She also saw things that weren't there and cried for one of us in the middle of the night. There was a doctor coming over several times to look after her but there was not much to be done.
One of my best friends was staying at our house during those days. It was Kathrin, whom I met in France when I was 9 and who still is a good friend. I will tell her story one time. She lived near Münster, which is about a two-hour trip by train from here. I was going to go back with her and stay at her place for a couple of days.
When I came back after a few days it was already dark. When I got off the train and I saw both my parents waiting for me at the platform, I knew something was wrong. I walked towards them and hugged them and the first thing I asked was: 'What happened?'
My father immediately knew what I was talking about. There was no other way that both my parents could have been able to come and get me from the train station.
I came back the day my grandmother had died.
My mom told me the story of my grandmother's death several times, but I don't know if I can get it all together.
While I was away it got worse. The day she died they had a pastor coming over for the last rites. But my grandmother seemed to refuse to die. It was the story of her life. When she was born she ruined her brother's first communion. It was supposed to be his day and her baby-self got all the attraction. My mom told me that somehow she always felt guilty for that. It was my cousin's first communion's a few days after she died. My mom believes that she tried to stay alive so she would not ruin anyone's first communion again.
So my mom told her: 'It's okay. You can go now.'
And she did.
That night my parents slept in my room. When they were already asleep I got up and walked in the bedroom where my grandmother was still lying. I sat down beside her bed and just sat there for a long while. I don't remember if I cried or if I touched her. Funny how things that seem so important just slip off your mind.
I took her little flashlight, though, the one that she had on her nightstand as long as I can remember. It's a little light blue flashlight. I still have it and I never changed the batteries.
