Konrad and Alexandra (PDF) - Rolf Gross

"Schulenburg had a hard time finding us. You remember the winter of 1938? We had moved to H—, and Alexandra didnot have an address for us. Neither did she know that Niko and Claudia had fled to America. Schulenburg finally found usthrough the East Prussian Bredows."A deep frown formed on his face. "My mother had a strange way of visiting me by psychic means, clairvoyance, orwhatever you want to call it. She watched over me, and once she appeared to me in a dream…. No, I don’t want to talkabout that—my mother terrified me in those days."He shook his head and paused in thought. "For many years Alexandra’s spying was a fact of my life. And I had hopedthat she would lose my tracks when we moved to H—…terrible, don’t you think?""Claudia had explained to me, that Mother would go flying," he brightened a little and made the silly gesture of flappinghis hands, "and visit people and places at night. Claudia once rescued her in St. Petersburg when Mother had fallen fromthe sky while looking for Konrad in China. Apparently Mother got confused and had nearly passed out in her trance.Claudia was still shaken by this memory, when she told me the story decades later."He glanced questioningly at me through his glasses. "Mother had discovered that she had faith-healing capabilities, andsomehow her flying was related to that. I did not pay much attention to all of this, until in 1920 she sent me a letteraddressed to the Bredow’s in East Prussia claiming to have seen me there in Annika’s arms. Can you imagine how thatalarmed me? My crazy Mother watching me without my knowledge. I had no sensation of her presence. In Annika’sarms? She claimed she saw me often in this way, but she could not speak to me, because she had not taught me how toget into that state. In 1939 she had lost my tracks. She wrote, unhappy that she was not able to find the town nor thehouse we lived in."Father ceremoniously got two glasses and opened a bottle of wine. My parents drank very little and then only on specialoccasions.Encouraged by his openness, I dared to ask the question which had pursued me many times since I had emigrated toAmerica."How was it when your parents sent you off to Germany in 1918? Were you very upset, or were you excited by theprospect of this new adventure?"My father looked silently at the photo of Alexandra’s grave. He had never talked to me about his separation from hisparents.With a deep sigh he continued. "When you left for America I got a taste of what it must have meant to my parents when Ileft Tbilisi. I have thought about that day many times since. Maybe you too?"I nodded, and he continued. "I was as excited as you were on that night in 1956, when we saw you off on the train toRotterdam. But you were twenty-five then and Andrea was to follow you soon. You know how much we love her. Weknew you would be in good hands. When I left Tbilisi I was eighteen and apart from Niko and Claudia there was nobodyin Germany with whom I had a close relationship. Mother must have been very depressed when I left, it had been heridea to send me to safety. I now ask her forgiveness for having accused her for many years of having been strange,aloof, and lacking the love I craved."He looked at Alexandra’s portrait on the wall of his study, and smiled. "I was full of adventure on that German ship toHamburg,” he contiunued. “It was one of the first ships on this route, the war had just come to an end. Herr von derSchulenburg, the good man, was pathetically concerned about the welfare of the orphan in his care. But later the entiremisery of my having been abandoned in that chaotic, defeated country overcame me with a terrible force, and it wasMother whom I accused of coldness and neglect."He stared absentmindedly into space. "For a few years I received an occasional letter from Mother, but then even thatthin lifeline was cut by the Second World War. Between 1919 and 1939 I received a total of seven letters from her, allsmuggled out, and only two of mine got there, as far as I know. I was not able to go back and forth every two or threeyears to visit my parents as you can."He turned to me with a quizzical glance. "For a long time your mother had to carry the heavy burden of my hopelessdespondency. She has not forgiven Alexandra, whom she considers the source of all her troubles with me. Maybe I canstill persuade your mother to make peace with Alexandra. There isn’t much time left for that labor of love."He picked up the photo of Alexandra’s grave and kissed it. I was startled—my father would barely give me a kiss when Icame or left."You said your Georgian friend told you that it was the custom to kiss one’s mother’s grave. Well, it is really much morethan that for me."He glanced embarrassed at me.To distract him from his troubled memories I asked, "What happened when you arrived in Hamburg? Niko and Claudiahad no idea of your coming.""In Istanbul we picked up another decommissioned German diplomat and his wife. They had been close friends of myparents, Joachim and Clara von Bredow. The man who before the First War had repeatedly urged my parents to return toGermany. Although they hardly knew me, they were truly delighted to see me. They took me in. They had a large housein Berlin and no children. Clara became my adoptive mother.208