Meeting My Grandfather’s Brother

In early May - when I was 19, I left Canada for an amazing adventure. I flew to Europe en route to Israel, where I was planning to study for a year.

I was allowed one stopover on my ticket. Although I really wanted to see Paris - I had taken French courses and wanted to practice my French - my mother persuaded me to have a stopover in Germany, where we had relatives both my mother and grandmother corresponded with.

Rather reluctantly, I changed my plans… (What teenager wants to meet elderly relatives?!)

In retrospect, I’m very glad I did, as I had the unique opportunity of meeting my grandfather’s youngest brother.

My grandfather (pictured above) died when my mother was two years old, so she had no memories of him. His younger brother, Gerhardt Gohl, lived in East Germany and happened to be visiting his sister, Lydia, who lived in Frankfurt.

Our meeting was a step back in family history.

Here is a picture of the two of us. I don’t remember what work he did before he retired, but I remember his sister Lydia saying that, having grown up on a farm, he had been an excellent horseman.

He was married but had no children. His wife wasn’t well enough to be able to make the trip with him.

He kept calling me his brother’s daughter - whereas I was, in fact, his brother’s granddaughter. It was hard for both of us to totally grasp the significance of who the other was.

I’m glad I was able to meet him - as I never had the opportunity to see him again.