Grandma

It’s been a tough nine months for grandmothers in my family. After having lost my Nanna (paternal grandmother) on the 17^th November last year, yesterday afternoon my maternal grandmother passed away after a short illness. She was my last surviving grandparent, and last of her generation- so her passing resonates through the family.

At 96, it’s difficult to say she hadn’t lived a full, meaningful life- she absolutely did. She was born in Tanunda, South Australia on the 25^th June 1918. 1918. Let that sink in. I can’t help but think how long ago that was. To put it into some kind of perspective: she was 38 years old before the first television set came to Australia. For much of her early life cars seemed like an invention only the wealthy upper class of Europe could afford. By the time Internet access became available in Australia, she was nearing her eightieth birthday.

But it wasn’t just science and technology that changed the world, Grandma was changing with it. Her mother died as an infant, and her father (a German Lutheran minister) travelled back to Germany to remarry and bring her new mother back to Australia. Grandma’s stepmother (affectionately called ‘Mutti’) was her aunt- her father had married her mother’s sister, as was quite common at the time.

Her teenage years were spent in an Adelaide boarding school, away from her five brothers and sisters who were now located at various points around the globe. Upon completion of her schooling, Grandma became a personal secretary to one of the Barossa wine maker- a job that would eventually lead her to travel with him to Melbourne.

In Melbourne, Grandma was ‘clipped’ by a tram, and taken to hospital with a concussion. During her stay in hospital, her attending physician was one Dr. Theophil Frank- the son of a Lutheran minister, who had an upbringing much like her.  The two fell in love, married and had two children- Ted and Elisabeth (my mother). You can read about Dr. Frank on the RACP College Roll here, and more about the family history here (start about half-way down with Rev. Johannes Frederick Theodore ‘Theo’ Frank & Descendants).

I never knew my grandfather, having died in 1980, a year before I was born. Grandma and Grandpa lived in the same house in Ripponlea from their marriage right up until 2008. When I think of Grandma, images of the house are ever present. The large magnolia tree we used to climb in the front garden. Green carpet. The distinctive ring of the doorbell. The extension to the back of the house that was used as a billiard room, dining room, and general ‘entertainment’ area. But mostly I remember the people. There was always someone at Grandma’s house. Friends and relatives from interstate and overseas were always welcome to stay as long as they needed. I myself spent many afternoons and nights in the house, usually getting help with my German homework.

I owe so much to Grandma. She gave so much to her family and asked for little in return. When she stopped driving, she gave me her car (a fawn coloured 1980 Mitsubishi Sigma with no power steering, heating/air conditioning, and an AM radio). The only ‘catch’ was that I was to use the car to take her shopping once a week. Which of course, I did. Grandma also taught me the art of cooking- she passed on to me her pavlova (a staple at family gatherings) and honigküchen (German Christmas biscuits) recipes. From learning these two recipes, my love of cooking grew. 

But it wasn’t just physical things she gave me. We both shared a love of art and creativity. I remember as a youngster, sitting on her couch looking through all her art books- mostly biographies of famous artists, or exhibition guides she’d picked up over the years. Grandma was a gifted artist, having painted many portraits and landscapes over the years- many of which are hanging proudly in the houses of relatives. And will hang for many years ahead.

Grandma’s passing was quick and painless, surrounded by her loved ones (with me were my mum, her cousin, and my sister) at 12:47 on Wednesday afternoon. The romantic in me hopes she waited until we were in the room before leaving us, and that she has now been reunited with Grandpa and her family.

Much like a book, this isn’t the end of the story, but rather the end of a chapter. We can go back and re-read any time- through memories, photographs, paintings and the writings she left behind. The keeping of the family history now belongs in the hands of the next generation, and I keep wondering what pieces are going to be left undiscovered. However, at the same time, we’ve been left with so many precious and treasured memories of a fantastic person who loved unconditionally and always saw the good in everyone.

Rest in Peace, Grandma. You’ll be much missed but never, ever forgotten.

Gertraut Elisabeth Frank (nee Held). 25.06.1918 – 30.07.2014