I grew up as a child with my parents and my grandma together in our house and lived as a child and teenager in a small room in the apartment of my grandma. My grandma lived in our house until her dead. She died 4 years ago at the age of 97. My father died early and we kids moved out some time ago. Today only my mother lives in the house.
My mother and my grandmother had to flee from East Prussia after World War II. They have always been together throughout their lives. They were like twins, you almost always saw them together. Maybe that's the explanation that nothing has been changed in the apartment since her death? Maybe the time has not come to change something and put away? Out of respect? Because of the memories? Is the courage missing?
When I visit my mother in, I stay in the apartment of my grandmother. Sleeping there is like a journey through time, back to my childhood. There was nothing changed since then. Everything is still in place. In the bedroom I discovered the 60s lamp, which I found fascinating as a child, because it reminded me of a UFO. The old wallpapers from the 70 are still on the walls. The furniture is still in its usual place. For years, even the two blue rags have been hanging in the bathroom. The little carpet in the kitchen is missing, the traces he left behind are clearly visible. The two massive wardrobes are like silent, immovable guards in the bedroom. My grandma's clothes are still in there. Due to the immutability of the apartment for years, I can enjoy the memories that I spent there as a child and adolescent. So, I can still feel the aura of my grandmother.