Dog

Dog

Friday, 25 April 2025

The Power of Stories



Along the Weser, watercolour

Blog 4


I returned from Germany and experienced so much that I have to take some time to process it.


Whenever I come to my native country, everyone asks me whether I could imagine living in Germany again. The answer is not that easy. I realize that my three or four-week vacation is not a realistic impression of life in Germany because I meet with so many beloved people that it’s more like a continuous party. I hardly face the everyday aspects of life in Germany.


When I moved to Canada thirty years ago, on April 21, 1995, I didn’t consider the long-term consequences of the decision. I saw it as a big adventure, not a permanent change. We had scheduled six months to explore the country and find work. I guess I did suppress the possibility of moving away forever. I had only rented out my apartment for six months. However, I wanted to live forever with my future husband, Ingo.


When Ingo received a job offer in Ottawa in early August, everything happened so fast that I didn’t have time to question our decisions. It was an exciting time. Within two months, we moved to an apartment hotel, purchased a house and married.


Would I choose differently today? Could I imagine moving back? I will try to answer these questions in the upcoming blogs.


When trying to answer the questions, I have realized the answer depends less on the location and more on the people in my life.There is truth in the saying, “Home is where the heart is.”


It has troubled me lately that my connection to Germany will be non-existent in a few decades. My children and any future generations (if there will be even any) won’t remember our German roots.


However, during this visit, I realized that even if you stay in the country at some point, the people who remember you will be gone. My mother wanted to return to her hometown, Minden, one last time. I am thankful that my parents were well enough for the trip, and my son Dominic was with us when we took this trip into the past. Even though he cannot relate to my relatives because he was only two when my last grandmother died and hardly knew many of the relatives close to me, he knows now where his grandmother grew up.


We drove past her parental home, which was bombed out and rebuilt after the war. I have never been inside because my mother moved to Gelsenkirchen-Buer in the Ruhr Area in the early 1950s. However, I still recognized my grandmother’s parental home when we drove by, which I remember from visits to her brother and his wife. My mother told us about the relatives and friends who have long died or moved away. However, some places she described were still standing, like the church where she was confirmed and my parents married. It was a very emotional trip. 

 

Vanilla Ice Cream With Rhubarb Compote, watercolour

It is all about the stories we tell and the traditions we pass along. I use my art to accompany my stories. My art helps me remember the things I encounter. During my trips, I usually create sketches related to my daily activities.


How do you keep your story alive? Does it matter to you? Do you tell your family history to your children?