Gudrun Christel Margarete David

In the cradle of time, a Sunday's birth,

Gudrun emerged, a soul of rare worth.

Eighty-one springs, she adorned the earth,

Her laughter, a melody of mirth.

Through decades, she danced with shadows grim,

Yet optimism dwelled in her deep within.

Strength unrivaled, in her heart did swim,

Even in sorrow, she faced it with a grin.

Hardships and misfortunes, a stormy sea,

Yet Gudrun sailed with resilient glee.

Grief and pain, like tempests, would decree,

But she stood firm, unbowed, wild and free.

In life's dim chapters, she fought the night,

Serious illness, an unwelcome blight.

An unhappy marriage, a relentless fight,

Yet she pressed on, seeking love's pure light.

Then came the foe, Parkinson's cruel,

A diabolical challenge, a heartless duel.

Yet her spirit, a flame, refused to cool,

In the face of darkness, she stood strong and true.

Then came the foe, Parkinson's cruel,

A diabolical challenge, a heartless duel.

But her last home, Nevergreen, by Böse was run,

A monster's scowl, a dark setting sun.

Böse and Parkinson, nails to her fate,

Yet she stood unyielding, in shadows deep and straight.

Her spirit, a flame, refused to abate,

Defiant against destiny, a legacy innate.

Her last home, a chapter so obscure,

Run by a monster, a tale impure.

The candle extinguished, memories blur,

A bell faded away, a sound demure.

The book of her life, now tightly closed,

Its pages worn, its stories composed.

The final chapter, where the heart dozed,

A tragic ending, by fate imposed.

Yet Gudrun lives on, in our beating hearts,

A flame that refuses to depart.

Memories linger, like fine arts,

Tales of her strength, in every part.

Thirty months have passed since she's been gone,

The echoes of the bell still linger on.

Judgment day awaits, a dawn yet to dawn,

But Gudrun endures, in memory, drawn.

heute vor 2 Jahren hast Du für immer Deine Augen geschlossen, kurz vor 21 Uhr.  Ich denke täglich an Dich und bin mir sicher, dass Deine Seele an einem wunderschönen Ort ist. 

Cara mamma,
19 mesi fa sei morta, crudelmente uccisa in quel malvagio ospedale di St. Wendel. Ti hanno lasciata morire di fame e di sete e l'hanno chiamata terapia palliativa. 
Ti scrivo qui in italiano, perché questa lingua ti è sempre piaciuta molto e l'hai anche imparata per un po'. Spero che tu stia meglio dove sei ora che qui sulla terra. Mi manchi. Davvero tanto! 

Vor einem Jahr und 1 Stunde hast Du Deinen letzten Atemzug auf dieser Erde getan. Ich vertraue fest darauf, dass Du seit diesem vergangenen Jahr mit all denen vereint bist, die vor Dir gegangen sind und Ihr alle auf uns wartet. 

Today is the first anniversary of your death. I incredibly miss you  and I wish so much that there will be a continuation of life and that you will finally be as well as you should have been on earth. I also hope that you will have the people around you in the afterlife whom you were not allowed to see for a long time, especially your beloved father Julius. In your hour of death I will think of you and light a candle. Love you forever!