Aunt Marie

My aunt Marie was a rather striking person. She was born 20.11.1914 as the second youngest of 7 children in a small village. Her house lay a little remote at the edge of the woods so that she did have a certain distance to the middle of the village, to school and to church. She had to, as was the case in those days, work even in young years to earn a living, and all her live she worked long and hard.
Marie was a witty optimistic and dynamic woman and had a wonderfully contagious laugh. Her husband, my uncle Jhos, was exactly the opposite: quiet, complacent, patient and staid.
At that time she was the only woman among my acquaintances who drove a moped. At the age of 50 she passed her driving licence. She did not succeed the first time but did not let herself get discouraged. From that time on she always roared by in her red car.
She was also very good at handicrafts. I remember again the nice pink pullover with the dark rabbits which she knitted for me when I was 7 years old and which I still wanted to wear even after I had grown out of it.
Aunt Marie was a fearless, honest woman with both feet on the ground. She always tried to make the best out of every situation and never complained. At the age of 38 her sole daughter died of cancer and left three small children, the youngest being 4 years old. Marie adopted her small granddaughter Conny and provided for her – Kindergarten, games, later school, learning, cooking – the whole programme. At the time she was 64 and stayed young and flexible. At the age of 12 Conny returned to her father and her siblings to visit the secondary school.
Now Marie was alone again. Her husband had died shortly after the daughter – alone in the house with the big garden with the wonderful flowers and fruits. I do not know why, but strawberries never tasted anywhere else so good as at aunt Marie’s.
Up to a ripe old age she took care of her garden without help from outside: she dug, planted, cut trees and bushes, mowed the lawn and cooked delicious jam. She was a real bundle of energy and I should have taken after her in part as I now shamefully admit. Neither did she need any help at home. At the age og 89 she even painted the kitchen ceiling. When I asked startled: Did you climb up the ladder? She replied: “Oh, it was only a little one, a small set of steps. I couldn’t look at the dirty ceiling any longer!”

Three years ago she was in hospital. She was very ill and looked bad. I was very much afraid she would never get well again. During this time her granddaughter Conny looked after her with devotion.
But Marie had an untameable will to live and soon afterwards she was almost her old self. The garden was reduced and she did not trim the bushes any more But she knitted covers for the lepers. She had knitted a great deal during her life. And she continued to visit her acquaintances in the old folks’ home who were much younger than herself. She still drove her car until she was 90 years old. With no accident! The doctor wanted to prolong her driving licence. She said to me: “You have to be reasonable. At 90 you don’t belong on the street any more. I’ve sold my car now!”
Aunt Marie still looked good at 90. She did not look like an elderly woman. She had remained young at heart.
She died a year ago at the age of 91 after a short stay in hospital, exactly the day before she had drunk champagne with the doctors and nurses at the Christmas festivity.
Annemarie (Luxembourg)