Thank You, Tante Waltraud

Dawn in Bad Hersfeld, Germany. I’ve been traveling with my daughters and our friend, beginning here in my mother’s hometown. We depart for Köln today, saying loving goodbyes to my aunt and many cousins. My mother’s beautiful older sister–all three sisters are gorgeous–has been a loving, expressive presence in my life from the day I was born, radiating a generous acceptance I’ve been privileged to receive.

She has lung cancer, the reason I decided to travel here at this time. I wanted to be with her more than anyone else this holy season when, it is hoped, we can reflect on the light that dispels and warms us in the darkness, and take the time to say what treasures we have in each other. And this is what we did, revisiting family history, stories I’d never heard, laughing til we cried and crying til we fell into each other’s arms, love spilling over. She’s the one person older than me in whose presence I’ve always been able to bare my heart. I used to wish she was my mother, knowing at the same time that if she had been, our mutual intensity might well have blinded us to each other’s glory.

“If we don’t see each other again in this life,” she said as we hugged one last time, “know that I’ve loved you always and take that love with you,” and, “I’ve lived a beautiful, wonderful life and enjoyed every minute. I’ve done and had everything I’ve ever wanted.”

This was something, coming from a daughter who lost her father in WWII when she was 11, who survived Nazi Germany and fled for the bomb shelter time and again as the allies fought to defeat Hitler; who experienced hunger and poverty and helped raise three younger siblings with a heartbroken, depressed and widowed mother; whose first-born grandson died of cancer at age five; whose first-born daughter died in her 30s; who cared for her mother in law and beloved mother until they died, and then cared for her husband of more than 60 years until he died. Her example inspires me to continue to see the good in others and all the light in the world in the face of profound darkness and loss.

Thank you, Tante Waltraud.


My aunt says goodbye. As we left on our last day, she hugged me tearfully and, looking me in the eye, revised what she had said to me the day before, “We won’t see each other again. But we know our love for each other.” I’ve been tearful and heartbroken all day, because I know what she said is true.

5 responses

  1. I didn’t realize you had been born in Germany until I saw your photo on Instagram. I was born there as well. My parents were stationed there in the 60’s.

    Your aunt sounds like a lovely soul. It would seem that the happiest people do not have the easiest lives. I’m glad that you had this chance to see her again and to say goodbye in person. Take care.

  2. This feels so similar to three years ago when a Third Eve post popped up in my email. I had no idea what it was then, and still haven’t figured out how it got there. But it started a glorious friendship that has been a true blessing to me. As I read your words here, I had tears in my eyes because of the joy they brought me. Joy for you. What a wonderful heritage you have with your family there. I am so glad you went to see them. Looking forward to seeing you when you get back home. Have a wonderful rest of your trip. Merry Christmas, friend, and God bless you always.

    • The treasures that come to us out of the most profound losses and surprising coincidences and divine gifts are what makes life so very good. I too am teary, thinking of you, my friend. I’m so grateful.

  3. Such beautiful and heartfelt words! Thank you so much Anne for sharing the warmth and light of your heart with us today on this sacred, Winter Solstice day. I am deeply moved by the love and light held within your words for your beloved aunt. Love and light, Deborah.

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