20 years ago this week my uncle passed away. His name was Reinhold but as long as I could remember he was “Holdi” to me. Holdi was married to my mom’s only sibling, my aunt Irene. They did not have any children of their own and were like second parents to me. Even though my grandparents lived in the same house as my parents and I, my aunt and uncle were really the only people my parents trusted to look after me when I was an infant. They had a crib set up in their guest room and were always more than willing to babysit me. As they lived just a 30 minute drive from us this was an easy and welcome arrangement. I remember spending every possible moment with them and Holdi became one of the most important people in my life. I admired and looked up to him. His patience with me was as endless as my love for him and my childhood is marked with nothing but fond memories of our times together. As a certified ski instructor he taught me how to ski before I could walk properly and was the first person to speak to me in English, the language I eventually adopted as my main form of communication.
The company Holdi started to work for when I was about eight years old send their director level employees to different locations every two years and when I was 10 years old my aunt and uncle moved to Vienna. My sheltered world as I had known it fell apart and I felt helpless, waving as their moving van rolled away towards Austria. For the next eight years I planned all of my vacations around flights and (when I was old enough) train rides to Vienna, where I spent my time whenever school was out. I could not wait for those trips, counting down the days and marking them off on my calendar. Whenever I arrived in Vienna my life felt complete again. Weeks filled with day long hikes through the Austrian Alps, spring skiing in Obertauern, balmy evenings in the local Heuriger, historical excursions through one of the most amazing cities in the world. All highlighted by endless conversations with one of the wisest people I knew. After two years in Vienna Holdi got word that his company was going to send him to Sydney. By this time his love for Vienna was strong enough to make him quit his job and become a self employed, independent broker. Imagine my joy!
Holdi was a tall, muscular guy, active and energetic. Whereas all of us suffered through flu and cold seasons on a regular basis, Holdi enjoyed perfect health. But unfortunately this was about to change in a more devastating way than any of us could imagine.
The spring after I came to America Holdi woke up one morning with what he thought was a tennis elbow. Being an avid tennis player this was the most logical explanation for the stiffness radiating from his right wrist to his elbow. Over the next week he did some strength exercises, took anti inflammatories hoping that this would take its course and he’d be back on the tennis court in no time. But it was not to be. After another couple of weeks the stiffness had radiated all the way up his arm to his shoulder. Still convinced that this was nothing more than a temporary sports injury he tried massages and heat therapy at home but to no avail. Then one day he lost feeling in his left hand and a day later his entire left arm was unusable. He finally made an appointment to see his Internist but writing it off as a non emergency he was not seen immediately and by the time the appointment came around he was dragging his left foot.
The doctor had no explanation for his ailment and sent him to a neurologist. After a battery of tests Holdi finally got the answer he thought he had been looking for, but it was far from the answer he was hoping for. At the age of 58 my uncle was diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, ALS for short. The disease made (in)famous by Lou Gehrig…
My family collectively decided that it was best for me not to know the extend of my uncle’s illness. They “did not want to worry me now that I was living so far away”. Don’t ask! There are not enough letters in the alphabet to explain their logic. If you have ever watched “The Special Section” Episode of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” you will find parallels to how my family handles communication in light of crisis. Eventually my uncle could no longer pick up, much less hold the phone when I called Vienna so in order to keep my suspicion to a minimum my parents and aunt told me that he had problem with muscle weakness. But I had a weird feeling all along and after my dad (bless him!!!) went to visit my aunt and uncle in the fall he called me immediately to tell me that things were not looking good. It was obvious he was holding back tears which alarmed me more than anything had ever worried me before that day. Save to say that this was devastating and since I had already planned a trip to Germany for Christmas I immediately made plans to visit Vienna as well.
On December 21st, I flew from San Francisco to London to spend the Holidays in North Wales with Hubby’s relatives. The coincidence of the Lockerbie disaster unfolding a mere 330 miles north of London as we touched down in Heathrow should have been a sign for things to come. After a week of festivities in the Welsh countryside I flew to Duesseldorf to visit my parents for a few days and was then going to make my way to Vienna. It was not to be! When I arrived in my hometown my parents tried to hide the news from me as best as they could but I knew immediately that something was not right. Holdi had passed away that morning. He had succumbed to his illness within a year and a half, unusually fast even for such a grave disease. My world as I had known it came off its axis just a little and the sorrow I felt cut deep into my soul. I realized in that moment when my dad broke the news to me that my life would never be the same. I had lost one of the constants in my life that provided a sense of security. What I did not know back then was just how much the loss would mean.
The next few days were a blur of taking an overnight train to Vienna, making arrangements to have Holdi’s body transported back to Germany, getting his estate in order and taking the train back to Germany with my aunt, all within five days. Then there was the funeral, a rainy cold day that matched my mood and those of the 100+ people who came from all over the world to pay their last respects to a man who was admired by many but did not come even close to the level of admiration his only niece had for him.
I left to go back to the States the day after his funeral. “Getting away” and being alone with my grief, surrounding myself with people who did not know him, seemed to be the best option. Holdi was the first person close to me that passed on and it took me almost a year to get over the initial shock. Over the years I lost my grandparents and my mom but I never felt the same sorrow that I had felt that cold, foggy December day when my chance to say “Good Bye” to one of the people I held dearest were swept away by a flood of tears. I learned later that his body had withered down to almost nothing incredibly fast and when he died he was a mere shell of his former self. I have often wondered if it was meant to be that I did not get to see him in his final state but can always remember him as the vital, fit man of my childhood.
Besides my dad and grandfather Holdi was the first man I was close to and the first person that taught me what it means to miss a person forever.
Today’s Running Tip: Run for charity!
A good way to get into running races is signing up for a charity run. Running for a cause and training with people who have the same goal can be a great motivator for staying on track with training.
