Day 158 - Auf Wiedersehen Marga

As I mentioned briefly in yesterday's blog post, we are in Germany for a family funeral. Phil has a very small extended family, and his first cousin Marga, his eldest blood relative died a few weeks ago. Marga was the daughter of his mother's brother.

Marga from our visit to
see her in Germany
last October

Like many Germans, she had an unquenchable love of travel, and came to visit us at cottages on a few of our previous trips to England. We last saw Marga in October when we travelled to Germany with our daughter Rebecca, and we had been planning to visit her again once Marga got back from her latest trip, which was to Spain. While we were very sad to learn that she had left us, we took some consolation in knowing that she had passed away peacefully in her sleep while travelling...and of course, as the minister at her funeral noted, she waited until the end of her 2-week trip. I suppose for anyone who loves travelling, that has to be the best way to go if you have to. At the time of her death, she had her next seven trips booked, including a trip to southeast Asia.

Marga with Phil on one of her trips
to meet us when we were in London
(July 2014).

Marga had a wonderful sense of humour. While she claimed her English was limited, it was much better than she thought and got better the longer she was with you. She was uninhibited, and so was able to make great use of the language and gestures to get her point across. Humour is difficult to convey in any language, but despite this, she could tell a story and make you laugh. On one visit to England, the two of us spent a wonderful afternoon drinking coffee, while laughing and chatting away without having Phil as our occasional interpreter.

She was also extremely generous. She always arrived with a suitcase filled with German cookies, chocolates and other goodies, ready to share with the family ... or any friends we also had visiting. Her holiday gift boxes were legendary in our house ... and with the local post office. And if you visited her at her home, you had to bring an empty suitcase because there was just no way she would let you leave without enough gifts to require you to worry about how much duty you were going to have to pay. Ha!

Marga's funeral service was held in her town of Lethmathe, part of the bigger town of Iserlohn. Her son Thorsten and his friend picked us up at the train station. We took a few minutes to enjoy a coffee in town as we caught up with Thorsten and his exploits as a photographer in New York, before we went on to the service.

Phil with Marga's sons (Phil's first cousins, once removed).
The lady in the photo is Sascha and Thorsten's cousin from
their father's side. The two boys are Phil's first cousins,
twice removed (and yes...I had to look all that up!)

Interestingly, the building in which the service was held had been built by the paternal grandfather of her sons. Funeral traditions vary a lot around the world. In Germany, people still wear black or very dark clothing. Marga had been cremated in Spain, and her ashes returned to Germany, where they are legally required to be buried in a cemetary. She had pre-arranged everything, right down to what music would be played at her service. Phil and I couldn't help but chuckle when the first song played: My Way.  Although this version was by a German singer, when you know the words and the woman, you have to smile.

Marga's ashes were interned in the town's cemetery, which is terraced with very pretty views across the Lenne River valley. Those in attendance all took turns walking up to the grave for their own moment, and either placed flowers, added a small shovel of soil to the grave, or tossed in rose petals that were in a basket next to it. It was touching to watch her two young grandsons go up individually and place their roses. That's when the tears flowed for me.

Gasthof Denninger.

As in most cultures, a wake followed, this one held in the local Gasthof Denniger, where we had coffee, soup and sandwiches.

Later that evening, Marga's son Sascha invited us back to his home for dinner. As is to be expected, his sons took quite the shine to Phil and before you knew it they were all playing Foosball in teams and fist pumping with each other after each goal. Marga would have loved to see that!

As the minister said (as far as my limited understanding could decipher), she is now on her greatest trip.