We always went to Limburg on Sundays. It was a 40-minute drive from Wiesbaden.
I had to wear my First Communion dress, or my Bavarian jacket.
Either marked me as German, which I hated.
We would go to a two-hour mass, in the Cathedral, and then we would visit my grandmother and her sister.
Oma’s sister lived in a dark and cold apartment. She was dressed all in black, and talked about “vice” and “sin” and “speculators,” as if these were the Weimar years.
I did not set foot in Limburg for decades, and then Marlies moved to Limburg in 2008, without telling me.
Soon after this secret move, Marlies had a stroke and was put in the hospital. And then she died at the end of that spring.