To Gaby: 28 August 1957 – 2012

You were a rare and beautiful flower !

Dear Gaby,

today 55 years ago you were born. When I heard the good news in the early hours of that day in 1957 I cried with happiness for you and your Mum. I wish you were still here so I could congratulate you for the good life that you lived, despite fate having given you a massive hurdle to overcome. But you did it !!! You put us all to shame with your zest for life. This zest for life you shared with the great German writer Johann Wolfgang von Goethe whose birthday you shared too. Here is what he wrote and you will understand, because you felt the same:

“I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. I possess tremendous power to make life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration; I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated, and a person humanized or de-humanized. If we treat people as they are, we make them worse. If we treat people as they ought to be, we help them become what they are capable of becoming.”

Wasn’t that you? You spread the “good climate” and shared your attitude to life with the rest of us. Your birth and your life was a gift to us from the creator as the meaning of your name is “God gives Strength”. When we chose your name we must have subconsciously foreseen what would become of you.Your life was a gift to us. Thank you for having been Gabriele, our Gaby. We love and remember you for the rest of our lives.

A beautiful life

This is a blog that Peter wrote in 2012 and I copied it in memory of Gaby and Peter.

6 thoughts on “To Gaby: 28 August 1957 – 2012

  1. Little dreams of a moth.

    I have little dreams,
    They are quiet and shy.
    I dream of primrose days
    And the patterned wings of butterflys…

    Sometimes I dream of thee,
    And sometimes I dream of us,
    But come the Primrose light of day
    My dreams fall back to dust.

    But when next I lay abed,
    Eyes clos’d by night’s velvet glove,
    Return to me quiet dreams,
    My shy dreams..
    My dreams of sylth’n love.

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