A tribute to my father, Eberhard Riedel

It is infinitely hard for me to say goodbye to my father, Eberhard Riedel. He peacefully passed away yesterday on Easter Sunday after a short, serious illness at the age of 88.

Many people knew my father as a successful ski racer of the former East Germany, as an athlete who represented his country on international slopes. For me, he was the man who showed me how to live life with poise, discipline, and passion.

What distinguished him was not only his skill on skis but his attitude toward sport. He was not a loud man, not someone who pushed into the foreground. He worked, trained, and fought — quietly, consistently, and with a deep respect for his sport and his teammates.

My father grew up in a time when sport in the DDR carried special significance. He discovered his passion for alpine skiing early, which took him to the international elite. He competed for the DDR national team and took part in major competitions — including World Championships and the Olympic Games. Especially in the giant slalom and slalom, he belonged to the athletes who could compete with the best in the world.

When you asked him about it, he rarely spoke about placements or rankings. Instead, he talked about things not visible to everyone: the conditions under which they trained — icy mornings in the mountains, the precision this sport demands. He spoke of team spirit, camaraderie, but also of the pressure to represent an entire country, in that politically highly charged era.

After his active career, sport remained a central part of his life. He continued to advocate for youth, shared his experiences, and remained closely connected to skiing. What mattered to him was that young people not only learn technique but also values: fairness, endurance, and the ability to cope with defeats.

To me, he was much more than the athlete. I experienced him as a father – someone who, despite all discipline, carried a great warmth. He could be strict, yes, but always fair. He was an absolute family man, and when I needed him, he was there. When I doubted, he was the one who encouraged me to go on. When I fell, he not only helped me up but taught me how to stand up again in the future.

And now, as I write these words, I realize how big the gap he leaves behind is. It’s the small moments that are especially beautiful in my memory. But they now hurt even more: his gaze, his quiet words, his soft smile when he was proud, without saying it aloud.

I was able to say goodbye to him in the hospital and tell him many things that were on my mind — how much I admired him. How much I owe to what I am today to him. How often I thought of his strength in difficult moments — and that giving up was never an option.

It’s hard to grasp that I can never call him again to tell him about my day. That I will no longer hear his voice that gave me calm, no matter how hectic and stressful everything was.

But I know that he lives on in me. In everything he taught me. In the way I think, how I act, how I handle setbacks. And perhaps also in the courage I now need to let him go.

Dad, I miss you more than words can express. And at the same time I am infinitely grateful to be your son.

Thank you for everything. For every minute. For every piece of advice. For your trust.

Take care, Dad.

Your son, Peter

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The funeral will take place within the family circle. We ask that you refrain from flowers or condolences. If you still wish to contribute, please support ASC Oberwiesenthal e.V. with a donation. This was his explicit wish.