There You Go

This was September 1971, the 18th, and I was already on my way.
I´m still here, you´re not and I don´t wanna sound like a drama-queen, but I miss you, Mum.

Your Granddaughter knows "Omi" lives in heaven, and "Opi", whom she never met, lives there, too, that she knows and tells. You are Omi, you were, for not even two years.

She doesn´t want me to live there,far away in heaven, so she decided a few months ago to change my name from Iris to Isa.
You know, the living end on an "a": Mama, Papa, Oma, Opa, Mia. An "o" may count as well, Ingo is still the big man she seems to be afraid of.
Did you know?
She´s as loud as he is, having her on the phone is no fun, she thinks, too, she has to scream to my place directly.
See.
I try to be funny.
All those people I could´t see this Christmas.

"Brüderchen", the guy, my dear(est) Bro, who was with you to the last bit...
He told me you don´t sense people around you anymore and I shouldn´t risk my life in these bad road conditions to see you.
Maybe he was right.
An accident wouldn´t have helped.

This is her, btw, the little girl, that´s so loud and fears Father Christmas so much (and for a reason, I guess), that she got Pressies only. Santa stayed over here. She looks like...

... me, a wee bit? In case you don´t remember. Dad knew early I´ll be Ingo´s some day:

This is me with the real guy, btw:

I don´t have your or Bro´s or Niece´s blue eyes. You know that, certainly.
Dad gave me his.

Miss him, too.

No, that´s not Woody Allen.
And the color is grey-green.
He left when I bought him a cup, so he can have some water by himself.
He did dare, I couldn´d even say good-bye, hey, you two do that to me, huh?
Is there a reason to do that?

Tomorrow, Mum, you´ll be gone one year.
I miss you. I miss you so much.

You remember our weekly phone-calls? Well, I´ll finally get rid of R! When I get back to work - I have two weeks off! - we´ll move and I´ll have my own office, too.

My eyes? Oh, now that you might ask. Still bad. Thanks to Crlt +++... I can do this. There is a new virus around, a "flu", white blood cells who think it´s funny to form clouds and sit down on the eyes.
Yep, me, or mine.

Well. What was this about?
About missing you.
If little Niece is right, you´re in heaven.
Tomorrow I´ll feel bad, so a farewell to you today, Mum. Hope there is a place for you, Dad, (my) Omi and all those we already had to say good-bye to.