I’m taking a momentary break from the regular format of this blog, to take a moment to honor my Uncle Gottfried. You have heard about him being by my father’s side in all of the previous stories and he will also be there in many future stories to come. So, I decided before moving on, I would take a moment to dedicate a post to my incredible uncle!

When I was little, my Uncle Gottfried was like a super hero to me. I would get so excited whenever he was around, because he made me feel like the world was completely fill with nothing less than magic. It’s hard to put it into words what made him so special, but when he was around, everything was an adventure. Everything was smiles and laughter.

He owned a hotel and restaurant when I was little, and sometimes we would go to eat there. Each time we arrived I remember vividly what would happen. He would come to our table and exclaim, “Ahhh Verina!! I knew you were coming, so we have been out working all day to find you your favorite! Do you know how hard it is to find chickens with FINGERS?!! We searched the woods, we scoured the farms, we spent hours looking through all the chickens, and did not stop until we finally found them just for you! Chickens with FINGERS!!”

I would giggle and laugh and feast on the extra special chicken fingers he had searched to the ends of the Earth to find.

This was my Uncle Gottfried. This was his spirit. His jovial energy. The man who taught me how to spell Mississippi long before anyone knew I would end up moving there. “M – I – Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter, I, Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter, I, Hump Back, Hump Back I” I think he taught me how to spell Mississippi by the time I was only 3 years old. Then there was my teddy bear named Fuzzy, who he’d sing, “Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear. Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair. Fuzzy Wuzzy, wasn’t very Fuzzy, Was He”

I can hear his words, I can feel his hugs, I can imagine the warmth his laughter brought into a room, and how he would listen. When I talked to him about anything, throughout my entire life, he made me feel like whatever I said was so important. No matter how old I was, or how silly other’s might think of what I had to say. He was one of the first adults that made me feel heard, that made me feel like the universe was blessed because I was in it and he truly wanted to hear what I had to say.

Reflecting on his life, and telling me his stories again has been hard on my father. You will see how my Uncle Gottfried was by his side through every single step of the way. A big brother who protected him, comforted him, loved him, and knew him completely.

Sadly, my Uncle Gottfried passed away from cancer a few years ago, so he won’t be able to read these stories, but I hope that by writing the stories of their lives that I am preserving something, not just for my father and I, but also for my Uncle’s big beautiful family and their children, and grandchildren, and great grandchildren, whom I all love dearly as well.

The legacy of my immigrant uncle lives on through his kind and compassionate children, who have gone on to do things like serve as missionaries all over the world, or volunteer as nurses in Iraq and other disaster areas, or lead children’s programs for their churches.

Yesterday, my father called me to say he found an email that somehow was lost since 2020, written a few days before my Uncle Gottfried passed away. I think it is so beautifully written, that it would be a shame for more people not to have the opportunity to read it, so I shall post it below. I take no credit and have made no edits to this beautiful poem written by my father’s girlfriend Sally Settle Barrow. Please enjoy..

WHAT IF…

What if you had an older brother (older by four years) you looked up to your entire life?

What if at the age of five, he held your hand one snowy night as you ran to catch the last train out of town when the Russians bombed your city…Danzig?

What if you held your brother’s hand tight as you tripped over dead bodies on your way through the dark streets?

What if the train was full but your mother stuffed both you and your brother through an open window just before the train pulled away?

What if you were a refugee for the rest of the war alone with your brother and your mother who found you against all odds?

What if you had little or nothing to eat for the duration of the war? You shared whatever you had with your brother, your best friend.

What if you and your brother sat at a railroad station watching men coming home from the front hoping the next train would bring your father? You remember always that the train with your father never came. You have no idea where your father’s body is buried.

What if you spent your teen years in the ruins of war-torn Germany dreaming of being a teenager in the United States?

What if your college money was gone because of the devaluation of the marc? Your brother studied to be a metal technician and you became a master mason.

What if you both were sponsored to come to the USA? You both said goodbye to Germany and your mother only to find out you were too young. You said goodbye to your brother while he sailed off to the west. For the first time in seventeen years Gottfried was not by your side.

What if you were able to sail by the Statue of Liberty and join your brother a few months later?

What if in less than three months, you two were living the American Dream with your own construction company in the building boom of post war America?

What if you were separated from your brother again when you were drafted and served six years in the Marines?

What if through life you worked together at times; lived close together for years; spent holidays together; served as Godfather to one of his daughters, traveled together; etc? The bond that was forged in childhood never severed.

What if your heart broke when your brother, your lifelong best friend, was diagnosed with cancer of the liver? 

What if thousands of miles separated you for a year, but emails and the telephone calls kept you in close contact?

What if your brother told you two weeks ago that he was getting weaker? What would you do?

Last Sunday Joe flew to Phoenix. Sunday night was about hugs, feasting, and reminiscing. The rest of Joe’s visit was about holding hands.

Joe came home Wednesday; his brother slipped into a coma soon after. Gottfried Robiller slipped from this world in the early hours of this morning. -Sally

From war torn Germany, to living the American Dream, they were side by side through the hard times and the wonderful times. Their bond was unbreakable, and I know 100% that Gottfried waited for my father to get there before he could leave this world in the end.

Gottfried was a beloved Brother, Uncle, Husband, Father, Opa, Papa, and friend to so many around the world.

He is missed dearly every day, and I’m so happy I have the honor of getting to tell part of his story along side my fathers through this blog

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Dedicated to Gottfried Karl Friedrich Robiller October 13, 1934 – November 22, 2020

I love you so much Uncle Gottfried! I’ll never forget the Chicken Fingers! I hope it’s our first meal together in Heaven one day! Love, Verina