Maija Hansen

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When I met Martins, he was mainly Tabitha’s big brother. On the occasions that we met in Oldenburg, drinking hot tea together with the whole family in the living room, the conversations were often serious, theological and very impressive to me.

Getting to know Martin a little better revealed his quiet humour with his little laugh, his interest in football and his cool taste in music. His special, schlendid gait, both hands tucked into the pockets of his corduroys, was unique.

As a pastor, I rarely experienced Martins, but I was very grateful that he was there in 1996 to see my grandmother off at the cemetery in the forest of Gigi near Rucava. He found comforting, loving words and I remember the lovely atmosphere after the service when we all sat together outside in the garden of my grandmother’s home.

My thoughts are with you, dearly beloved,

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