On Sunday, I had to say goodbye to Opa, my paternal grandfather. He was 89.

Opa and I after my graduation from pharmacy school

He was predeceased by his loving wife Elfriede:

He was admitted to the hospital on Thursday, January 8 with pneumonia in his right lung. He was largely unresponsive at the hospital, so the decision was made to bring him back to the nursing home and begin hospice care. After receiving the phone call from my mom with the details of the hospitalization, I made the decision to head home to New Jersey for the weekend to spend time with Opa and my family. In retrospect, this was probably the best decision I’ve made in recent memory. Opa passed away very peacefully with our family by his side on Sunday, January 11, 2015 at 4:00pm.

My memories of Opa are fond, and were brought back to life as we looked through hundreds (thousands?) of old family pictures this past weekend. Trips to the Aquatic Swim Club, Christmases in Oma and Opa’s basement, and walks around their neighborhood were well-chronicled, as Opa was often seen with camera in hand. We used to walk up Bullens Lane to the I-476 overpass, where Oma and Opa would let us stand up against the fence and pump our arms in hopes that a few big rigs would honk their air horns (you know what I’m talking about, right?) We would sit at the corner of MacDade Boulevard and count how many car carriers would drive by, anxiously waiting for Oma and Opa to let us have a few Gummibären. I still remember how Opa taught us the “right way” to pronounce Hechinger. Opa traveled with my family and I to Germany in 1998, where we celebrated Oma’s 70th birthday. From marching in the Steuben Parade in Philadelphia as a child, to drinking fine German Weißbier today, Opa taught me to always be proud of my German heritage.

Opa fought in the German army in World War II. He was captured as a prisoner of war by the Americans and was held at Camp Pickett in Virginia. I remember him telling me that, even as a prisoner of war, that was the best he was ever treated during the war. I’m fortunate to say I’ve heard some stories that will never be published in any history book.

In Opa’s later years, he and Oma moved into the Woodbury Mews, an assisted living facility not far from my parents’ house in New Jersey. Oma’s progressing Alzheimer’s dementia and Opa’s progressing Parkinson’s disease necessitated more advanced care than we would have been able to provide. Opa used to visit his bride every day, despite living on opposite sides of the Mews (Oma lived in a special dementia unit that provided closer supervision and care for patients with advanced memory disorders.) I vividly remember sitting by Oma’s bedside with Opa many times, but especially when Oma had been placed on hospice care. That was the only time in my entire life that I’ve seen Opa cry.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. If you’ve called or texted me or my family, thank you. If you’ve expressed your condolences via Facebook, thank you. Your support, thoughts, and prayers have helped my family through this difficult time. Opa’s memory will live on forever. Please stay tuned to Facebook for funeral service details.

As I’ve posted on Facebook, the German word for “goodbye” is “auf wiedersehen.” Literally, this can be roughly translated to “until we see (each other) again.”

Ich liebe dich, Opa. Auf wiedersehen.