Bailey Garland
(Based off the painting by Karl Schmidt Rontluff)
The year is 1914 and although very early in the Great War, a little family within Germany has already begun to experience the heavy heartache that this war will bring. Tonight, around the humble cottage, what seems like the whole town has gathered to grieve the loss of their beloved, Franz Becker. The mother, the lovely Louisa, stood at the entrance of her home greeting the neighbors as they came to keep the grieving family company. They must have seen the pages. Today’s newspaper headlined something which now seemed unimportant. But on page 3, there was his name in small, bold letters. His obituary read “43 years old. Soldier killed in battle. Survived by his wife and family. Services will take place at St. Michael the Archangel Church on 321st Street on September 29.” It says so little. “But he meant so much.” Louisa thought, gripping the newspaper clipping close to her heart. Was that what was left to tell the story of his life? It didn’t mention how tall he was and where her neck fit into the crook of his. It didn’t comment on his chocolate brown hair, which was unusual for a German, but his bright blue-eyes, which although quite common, were the most beautiful in the land. They sparkled on the daily but glowed a little more when he was about to kiss her. He was a good husband, a good father, and a very loving man. She would be lonely without him.
The family concluded the funeral and grieving process with a luncheon at their home providing live music, hoping to spread some happiness with all the recent and tragic events. Dressed in all black the two daughters of Franz, dance, hoping in a small way to be close to their father for just a minute. After all, he loved music and was always dancing. The younger sister, Adela is a bright and spritely girl just as her father was. She and her father shared a gypsy soul, free and confident, knowing the value of a single moment created happiness in life. (The obituaries won’t tell you that.) Barely 16, she is wise for her age, though almost naïve to the danger and evil side of this world. She has her back to the crowd because she refuses to let people see her cry. There is supposed to be a positive side to everything… at least that’s what her father told her as she watched her hero leave for the war. “What is the good in this, Papa?” The tears roll down her face as she twirls, but she dances through the thoughts in the same step her father had every night.
The oldest daughter is named Margo. More solemn, she doesn’t have quite the same rhythm or desire to dance as her younger sister. At 19 years old, Margo knows she must grow up and in doing that she is becoming very serious. She finds her life changing before her eyes. Her father has been killed and her fiancé is swept away to the war, “How can I smile when this war is taking those I love?”. She finds it hard to dance, especially in the flower garden which her father planted the day she was born. She is very worried about the future. Her mother is growing older and also grieving. Mother is a strong woman, but life is making her bones weaker. Her brothers of 14 and 9 now have to become the two men of the house with no one to watch as a model of masculinity. Margo worries especially for her younger sister, Adela who is too free-spirited for this cruel world which is chained together by evil and disaster. She reminds her so much of her father. He was a kind, sensible and loving man… Did they tell you that in the obituary?… and although he and Adela shared a soul, Margo knew she also shared in a special bond with him. He always knew how she was feeling just by a look and he always knew what to say or how to act to comfort her and calm her worries. She knows her sister may not understand all of her concerns so instead of dancing in the garden, she watches her sister move her feet to the same rhythm she had seen her father do daily around the living room. These two girls in a garden will grow alongside the flowers, trying not to wilt with this cold weather that has suddenly crept in.