Opa

My father-in-law passed away last week after a battle with pancreatic cancer. Any pain and suffering from the illness was his secret until six weeks before he passed away.

We’d regularly taken trips to a beach a short drive from his house, he and my family. He liked to take his grand kids to look for sea life in the tide pools and watch them play in the gentle surf. It was on one such beach trip in August the first signs of trouble appeared. He lost his balance a few times and was uncharacteristically out of breathe. The hospital visits began shortly thereafter.

Opa, as the whole family often preferred to call him, grew up in W.W.II Germany. He was a very mature 12 years old by the end of the war as one might imagine such experiences shaping his youth. As the oldest of three siblings one primary responsibility was to look out for the safety of his little brothers and sister.

He left Germany in 1954 after an apprenticeship in electronics. One time over coffee and Wife Klem’s blackberry cake, of which he was so fond, he explained why he left Germany, his family, and all that he knew. He said simply that he wanted to see ‘how the victors made out.’ He was twenty years old and ready to engage the world, make his way. With that he departed for Canada and entered the U.S. a year later.

He was a man of numerous exciting and entertaining tales, many of which I’ve written down to pass on to our kids. When they get older and curious about their family history they’ll be better able to know the life of their Opa.

He was a good dad to my wife and I couldn’t have asked for a better father-in-law. He was very involved with his grandchildren and consistently took full advantage of a grandparent’s privilege of plying his grandchildren with candy regardless of whether or not a base of strong food had first been consumed. It was always a Happy Opa Day.

Peace to you, dad.
-klem