by Andrew Creekbaum
The last memory I ever had of my sister, Margareta, was from the day she died. I had just gotten home from school, and I asked the usual “What’s there to eat?” All my mom would give me were some left over nachos from Taco Bell, so I took them and headed to my room. Just as I sat down, Margareta came in and started picking some from the box. There was plenty, so I just let her continue. We sat there, and I eventually got out my homework, and she kept on asking what I was doing and how I did it. Eventually she got bored and left the room. Later that day, it turned out to be the worst day of my life, and most likely will be for a long time.
I just wish she didn’t die so young so I could have more memories of her, but this memory will be stuck in my mind for as long as I live.
Submitted by Andrew Creekbaum in memory of his sister, Margareta Kubitz.
by Maria Kubitz
It was a morning just like any other. My daughter and I were getting ready for daycare and work. We were doing the regular things we did to get out the door and into the car. As we would leave our shoes outside in the atrium of our house, I opened the door and Margareta waited as I got her Dora the Explorer shoes to put on. After I put them on, she complained that the toes hurt on one of her feet. So I took the shoe off, and stuck my fingers in to see if anything was inside.
When my fingers reached the toe, it was cold and wet and squishy. My first reaction was to get my hand out as quick as possible. As I looked at my fingers when they came out of the shoe, they had greenish goo on them. What the heck was IN there, I thought? I hesitatingly reached back in again to try to get out whatever it was.
Sadly, when I pulled it out, it turned out that a friendly black fuzzy caterpillar had thought that Margareta’s Dora shoe was a nice, warm refuge for the night. Margareta, who loved animals, was very sad that the caterpillar had gotten squished to death. We buried the caterpillar, cleaned her shoe, and then got going once again.
It was probably about a week before Margareta stopped asking me to check her shoes for caterpillars every time we put them on.
Submitted by Maria Kubitz in loving memory of Margareta Kubitz.
by Mary Miller
My husband Joe and I shared so many things, with an absurd sense of humor being a major cornerstone in the foundation of our relationship. We hadn’t been dating long when I received word that a very close friend’s 10 year old daughter had been killed in an automobile accident. We were thousands of miles apart and I didn’t really know what to say, so Joe and I went to Hallmark for a card. I had been crying for two weeks, since hearing about Jessica, but I was able to hold the tears inside enough to go shopping. At Hallmark Joe and I were a few feet apart browsing for the exact perfect card, but after reading through many sympathy cards I was starting to tear up again. He noticed, and said to me “Think we should go for a humorous card?” (He was never afraid to be ridiculous when I needed a good laugh.)
Submitted by Mary Miller in loving memory of her husband, Joe Stolz.
by Maria Kubitz
On the surface, our daughter, Margareta, appeared to be a tom-boy. With three older brothers to keep up with, she was as rough and tumble as they come, and never afraid of getting down and dirty. Her legs and knees would rarely – if ever – be free of scrapes and bruises from all the climbing and adventures with the boys. While at the baseball and soccer games of her brothers, she most often played with the younger brothers that were also on the sidelines.
With that said, Margareta never lost sight of the fact that she was a girl. While her brothers rarely, if ever, cared what clothes they had on, Margareta definitely had a unique style and a love of clothes that she somehow inherited from her dad’s side of the family. She changed outfits many times each day. She loved dresses, clothing with sparkles, pinks and purples, bows and frills. She watched princess movies and wanted to wear makeup. She was impossible to categorize. Neither “tom-boy” or “girly-girl” — she was whatever suited her in each moment.
At three, she was invited to the birthday party of one of the few girls she knew. According to the invitation, it was a princess party! You should have seen the sparkle in her eyes when she heard this. We ran to her closet to see what dresses could be appropriate for a princess. There were a few to choose from, but the decision was easy: a maroon dress with a tulle skirt and a gold knit cardigan top. The day of the party finally came, and with her princess dress on, we were off to the party at Super Franks.
When we got there, we found the princess room, and discovered that they had princess dress up clothes. The host of the party remarked that Margareta already had on a beautiful princess dress, but not one to be left out, Margareta found a matching fairy “dress” to put on over the dress she was already wearing. Then, with a tiara on top, she emerged as one of seven princesses at the party. She partook of tea and cake — and for an hour, was a princess through and through. I only have one picture that captured the moment, but will forever remember my little princess and how happy she was that day (pictured on the bottom right of the photo).
Submitted by Maria Kubitz in memory of her daughter, Margareta Kubitz.
by Maria Kubitz
The Urban Dictionary definition of “Old Soul” is:
“A spiritual person whom is wise beyond their years; people of strong emotional stability. Basically, someone whom has more understanding of the world around them.”
There was one moment my daughter displayed the wisdom of an old soul that will forever stay with me. She was three years old. I was home by myself with her and her three older brothers on a summer day. Boys being boys, they have a tendency of driving me nuts after being cooped up too long. Long story short, after an extended period of them not listening and causing havoc, I lost my patience. I got angry, yelled, and sent them to their rooms. It left me in an exasperated mood.
Margareta had been coloring on the dining room table while all this happened. She had just went on about her business while her brothers were being dealt with…unlike me as a little girl, who would have gone and hid thinking that the anger would find it’s way to me next. As if fulfilling my childhood expectations, my angry mood turned on Margareta next for no good reason. I snapped at her, telling her to clean up the mess of crayons all over the table. Unlike me as a little girl, who would have burst into tears or cowered in my seat and promptly obeyed, Margareta simply looked at me and said, “Mama, talk nicely to me.”
It took my breath away. This little three year old girl had enough confidence and wisdom that she could calm me down and put me in my place all at the same time. Those magical words immediately lifted the fog of anger off of me and brought me back down to earth. To the day I die, I will never forget her words of wisdom. I only wish that I can learn to react in the same state of grace as she did when someone loses their temper around me. Or that I can channel that wisdom to avoid losing my temper.
I miss my beautiful daughter, and can only hope that some day, I’ll grow up to be like her.
Submitted by Maria Kubitz in loving memory of Margareta Sol Kubitz.
This website was inspired by the memory of Margareta Sol Kubitz in hopes of helping others work through the pain of grief.