Writing 1

29.9.2022

                                                 Death.

My Oma died in summer, her favorite season.  Before I found out that my grandma died, I was at a friend's place in Germany. My dad and my brother were in Belgium because my Grandmer (my father's mom) broke her leg, and my mom was in Albania working. We were supposed to move there in a few weeks. 

It was a hot summer day in Schwalbach and Romy, Gugu, and I were just coming home from shopping. We were at the mall, MTZ. We were staying at Gugu’s place.  

It was Wednesday, one day before dad and Fabi came to pick me up. Gugu’s room was filled with warm sunlight. We sat on the mattress all over the floor and looked at the things we bought.

 “I think the earrings are really pretty.”

Romy said while I got the chocolate I bought out of my bag and started eating it. Gugu looked at me as if I was doing something criminal.

 “We just ate about twenty minutes ago and you can already eat again!”

 I sat there probably looking like someone how didn’t know what was wrong, and answered

 “Yes, I can eat again. I can always eat.” I said with a devilish smile, and we all broke out into laughter.  

Little did I know my grandma died a day ago. 

On Thursday morning my dad and my brother came to pick me up. The moment the door opened I hugged dad. I somehow had the feeling something was wrong. I ignored it. On the car ride home, I told them what I did with Romy and Gugu. When I entered my house the usual smell hit, and I never felt more home. Dad looked at me and said he had one good and one sad news. We sat down on the couch, and I said I wanted to hear the good news first. He told me that mom would be coming home a day earlier, which I really liked. I already thought about coming to pick her up. But then dad told me the sad news. My Oma had died on Tuesday.

 “You are joking right?” I asked with tears coming up and threatening to spill over. I was so in shock by the news.

 “I wish I would be.” Dad answered. The Christmas’s I spent with her flashed before my eyes. Every Christmas I ever celebrated was spent at her apartment with the rest of my family. That warm feeling of family. That would be the biggest change of her not being there anymore. We would probably still do some of the traditions but not all of them.

Apparently, her downstairs neighbors were the ones to notice. She called the police, and they came and knocked the door down after no one opened the door. They found her lying on the floor in front of her bed. Ready to start a new day. They checked the letters she wanted to send to Fabian, my cousins and me to see if she talked about killing herself, but there she didn’t. The letters had money in them for our summer vacation. She always did that. The money was for books or other things we wanted to buy.

On Friday when Mom came back, we were waiting for her. As is aw her I ran up to her to hug her and we both started crying. Dad came and picked up moms’ bag and brought it to the car. Mom was shaking, it was the second time that she heard a member of her family died over the phone. She was shaking and her eyes were red from crying. You could see the traces the tears had left. We didn’t talk much on the ride home.

“When are we going to leave for Kirchheim?” Fabian Asks when we reach home. “So, I can pack” he added.

“We are leaving tomorrow.” Mom answered with a strong but sad voice. 

We started packing the next day and left in the evening. My aunt and her Family were there. As we arrived at Omas place, as the door opened, I started to cry. I hugged my aunt and gave her a small smile.

All my life I spent Christmas at my Omas flat and suddenly she is gone. Spending Christmas with my family is not the same anymore. She is missing. All the traditions I got used to over 15 years have changed.