When I moved to Germany 27 years ago, the first people who befriended me were Bernd and Trude. They were much older (nearly 30 years older) than I was, but we had a wonderful close and lively friendship. One that was easy to nurture, yet caused other people, including their two grown sons, to wonder what the attraction was.
Bernd died a few weeks ago and so this trip down to southern Germany to visit old friends, is mixed with a bitter sweet experience of saying adieu to my old friend. Yesterday and today, Trude and I talked about old times. She told me about his last illness and we visited the chapel where his memorial service took place and the cemmentary where he is buried. It sounds as if this would be a sad things to do, but actually it was more touching and endearing and, yes, at times, tearful, but mainly a quiet prayer to send him on his way.