Saying Goodbye to Tanja, Who Died on Her Twins' 11th Birthday
Six weeks from diagnosis to goodbye. Tanja died on her twins' 11th birthday, and her friends remember the loudest laugh in the room.
Dear friends, sometimes we get news that changes everything. That's how it was early this week, when we learned that a dear fellow blogger had not survived cancer. I only knew her in passing, from her visits to Blogfamilia, but many others became close friends of hers. One of them, Silke, started a fundraiser for Tanja's family. And here, she says goodbye to her soul mate with the loud laugh in this piece…
Don't be surprised that there are no photos of Tanja in this post. Tanja didn't like having her picture taken, and of course we want to respect that even after her death…
Saying Goodbye to Twin Mom Tanja
"There are people who touch your life. My friend Tanja is one of those people. Tanja was one of those people. How awful to write it that way. Tanja is dead. It's just unbelievable.
I first met Tanja online. She was a co-author on the blog "Chaoshoch2." She wrote about everyday life with her two Murmels (her nickname for her twins, which means "little marbles"), about the challenges and the wonderful little things. We wrote back and forth online, on Twitter. And her cheerful, open attitude fascinated me.
"Everyone who knew Tanja loved her laugh."
At a blogger event in Wuppertal, Germany, someone called out my name, loudly, and laughed. Everyone who knew Tanja loved her laugh. It came from the bottom of her heart, loud, raspy, and endlessly contagious. With her directness she caught me, a reserved northerner, completely off guard and pulled me into a hug. It was love.
Tanja became one of my closest friends. A soul mate. With such a big heart. And an even bigger mouth. Her world was her Murmels. Her wonderful kids. Her family, her kids, her husband, and her mom: they meant everything to her.
Tanja rolled up her sleeves. And helped. Always.
But she was there for so many other people, too. She chatted on Twitter. She had a knack for sensing when someone wasn't doing well. She sent direct messages, she called. And she was there. If someone was struggling, she took care of them. Tanja rolled up her sleeves. And helped. Always. She loved loud music, sunshine, and above all the ocean.
Again and again, life threw challenges at her. Too many losses. Her sister died far too young. Her father, her brother, her cousin. "Enough of this dying now," she said. Last year she was finally able to make a dream come true. Two homes became one, and the family could move in together.
The Move, the Renovation, Plans for the Future
The kids started at a new school, and the renovation of an old house began. In late summer I visited her, and she showed me the garden. She told me about all the things she had planned. "This room is still a construction zone. But it's going to be an eat-in kitchen with a door straight out to the yard." She had to take a break from renovating when she, of all people, so careful, came down with COVID. Then pneumonia followed. At the beginning of the year she felt so exhausted.
We made plans. Now more than ever. We talked about trips and parties. We wanted to finally go dancing together and feel sea salt on our skin again. The ocean was Tanja's place of strength. In February we talked on the phone, and she told me her family doctor wanted to examine her more thoroughly.
Six Weeks Ago, She Was Diagnosed With Cancer
That was barely six weeks ago. And then everything went incredibly fast, and at the same time it felt like standing still. The diagnosis: cancer.
She thought of her family first. Her kids, who were so excited about their birthday. Her husband, the love of her life. Her mom, who had already had to bury three of her children. Tanja was hopeful.
"I know the elephant now. Now I'm going to take it on. There's a roadmap." She talked to people. And she was quickly admitted to a specialty clinic. Last Friday she got her first chemo. On Thursday she went into the hospital, hopeful.
Six Weeks After Her Diagnosis, Tanja Died
Over the weekend she was allowed to go home to the people she loved. On Saturday she was still writing messages. On Sunday she felt worse. And then she had to go to the hospital. Her body couldn't go on. The cancer was too aggressive and had found terrible places to settle.
On February 28, six weeks after her diagnosis, Tanja died.
Tanja Left This World on Her Twins' 11th Birthday
Mother, wife, daughter, friend. A big heart has stopped beating. Of all days, she left this world on her kids' 11th birthday. "Will I ever see the ocean again?" she asked me in February. Now she can only see it from somewhere else. She's elsewhere, but not gone. Tanja touched so many people so deeply.
Her kids, her Murmels, lost their mom far too soon. The Murmel dad (whom she described as "the best thing that ever happened to me") lost his wife. And her mother now has to bury her fourth child.
A Fundraiser for Tanja's Family
How are you supposed to make sense of the unthinkable? If only someone could stop the world, because now it's missing such an important piece. My heart, I will always love you.
As her friends, we feel so helpless. It doesn't feel like there's anything that could comfort her family. But we want to do a little something so that at least other worries get smaller, so we started a fundraiser on GoFundMe. If you'd like to support Tanja's Murmel family, please chip in if you can, and share the link."
"Now it's much too early to be too late …
You were a way of living
Anything but ordinary
With your big smile
You beamed all the doubts away …
No one laughed as loudly as you
No one will ever be more loudly silent
Your stillness fills the room
But your place will always stay empty
You had to leave too soon
But what touches us, stays"
(Lyrics from "Konfetti" by Enno Bunger)
This story first appeared in German on StadtLandMama.
