Marianne Erika Runkel passed away at sunrise on March 15, 2026. It would not be lost on her that she passed away on the Ides of March. She was an avid historian, lifelong learner, and traveler. In her final moments, she likely said, with an eyebrow raised, “Et tu, Carcinoma?” It wasn’t her first brush with fate.

Her dance on the tapestry began on the day she was born in Konigsburg, Prussia in late October 1943 delivered by her Lithuanian German mother, with her Yiddish speaking Omi nearby. Then just months later, making the trek west in her German artist father’s rucksack. First Quedlinburg and then Magdeburg then Munich, Düsseldorf, Koln, Viersen and finally Suchteln, a few kilometers from the Dutch border. The extended family was eventually split by the Iron Curtain until that incredible day in November 1989. Later, because of the Berlin news coverage, she learned who Bono was and embraced the music of U2.

She remembers the Hershey bars in the American Red Cross boxes. She remembers the hunger, the schoolyard bullying, the otherness of being a war refugee not quite belonging. On rare teenage outings to Koln, she discovered Mickey Mouse and Elvis secretly making a vow to get to America. She got there in 1967, but it wasn’t the best relationship when she was married to an Air Force Sargeant from Hershey, PA.

She learned English from I Love Lucy and ironically Hogan’s Heroes. When her kids got in trouble, they would immediately assume Schulz’s accent and say, “I know nothzingk,” sending her into peals of laughter at the absurdity of it all. It wasn’t an easy life. She found ways to survive the trauma through art and music. But sometimes, her coping mechanisms also tried to kill her—the drinking, the post-divorce recklessness, the car accident that gave her a titanium femur and a lifelong limp. And then pneumonia hit hard in 2005. When her long-term partner, Larry “Leaping Tiger” Lane with his own refugee story fleeing mainland China just couldn’t care for her anymore her family brought her to Virginia.

They got her sober and healthy. They went to see Billy Idol and U2. She got her Elvis fix watching Lilo & Stitch with Laura. She played Legos with Sam re-enacting Star Wars and the Clone Wars. She spent time with Angel telling stories, and she sent all her love to Treasure in prayers and cards. When Brad came to visit, they practiced some German together. She learned the Buddhist tenets from Eric. She planted bulbs with Staci to bloom again and again. She got to take a cozy nap aboard Chris’s sailboat.

She got to be a kid again while also being an Oma. She decorated her room with China dolls and stuffed animals—the things she longed for 70 years ago in German shop windows. She lived a childhood 70 years too late. She also secretly collected bars of soap by the dozens reflecting deeply seated post-war PTSD.

She lived 20 more years with her children, her grandchildren, and with her gardens, listening to Elvis, Billy Idol, and U2. She is now headed to the Streets with No Name with a Rebel Yell on her lips wearing some Blue Suede Shoes. She is pre-deceased by her longtime partner Larry “Leaping Tiger” Lane of Port Aransas, Texas.

She is survived by her daughter Staci Runkel Martin, a lifelong public servant; her sons Eric Runkel, a devout Buddhist and Christopher Runkel, a certified Sailor and Yachtsman; her five grandchildren Laura Martin, Sam Martin, Brad Wilbur, Angel Runkel, and Treasure Runkel; and her two cats, Mimi and Boots. Services will be on the Chesapeake Bay and Germany at a later date. A special note of thanks to Jason Hill, PAC at Sentara Leigh, Dr. Danielle Chau with Virginia Oncology Associates and Amy, Becca, and Donna with Wings Over Virginia Hospice.

Her last request was that in lieu of flowers or cards, that we reflect deeply on how the dysfunction of war echoes across generations and make donations to the American Red Cross so that the children of war and its aftermath can find small moments of joy in the midst of global crisis. Donations in her honor may be made by clicking here.