In the quiet hours of the night, deep in sleep, my grandmother Christel Kurtz-Brandshagen peacefully slipped free of this world. She was a formidable woman who lived an extraordinary life (of 96 years). Her love required translation which made things difficult. Our personal relationship was distant mostly estranged, but I can't help but be in awe of what she experienced and accomplished in her lifetime. She survived WW2, the rise and fall of the Third Reich, and the rebuilding afterward. She immigrated to America in 1958, became a naturalized citizen and built a business. She was a constant and formidable presence in the lives of all who knew her (whether you wanted it or not).
She survived a real war so I could grow up and draw stupid comics about make-believe ones. I'll always owe her that.