05 February 2009

history; blank pages.

So my mum was one of three children, born during the end of the second world war in Germany. Her (real) mum died when she was...three(?) I think, and her father was a prisoner of war in Russia. All three kids were sent to different places when he was presumed dead, my mum to an orphanage. 
Then the war ended, and suddenly he was back, and suddenly he was remarried, and suddenly all three kids got put on trains from all parts of germany to be reunited with their "new" family.

On Wednesday I got to see my cousin KJ, who I don't get to see enough, dammit, as she lives in New York.  But we finally managed it. And out of nowhere, she said "I have a gift for you" and she pulled out this book. It is the single greatest gift EVER. It is from 1950, and belonged to my mum's stepmum, who is now dead.

The translation of this page, this first entry, is (9 November, 1950) "I love my children Erika (my aunt), Hans-Peter (who ran away to France and then killed himself in his early 20s) and Gabi (my mum) deeper and more intimately as each day goes by" 

The rest of the journal is completely empty. 

Albeit not knowing both sides of the story, I was led to believe for years (and won't dismiss quite yet) that she was unaccomodating and unloving towards all of her surrogate children. The book is totally empty. It has a lock on it, a locked book of blank pages.

We decided how cool it would be to surmise what she might have filled the rest of the pages with. 

The best gift Ever.

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