I'm really sorry to hear about what happened to your car. It sounds like you and your bride have fond memories that were made in it. I hope that makes up, to some degree, for how you had to let it go.
Sad to say, the better half passed away in 2012, after 34 years together. Making fond memories now with a new one. She is not into Mercedes' unless it's an older SL; she's contemplating buying this one
1972 Mercedes 350Sl Roadster Convertible hard top
and putting me to work restoring it. I've seen it, it would take a solid year of my labor and about $20 grand to make it right.
In early 2011 my late wife spotted another W123 sedan for sale locally, a 1985 300D. Its dark blue exterior was in not too bad of condition, its palomino interior was excellent, she said it reminded her of the one we owned in Europe, so I bought it. Soon thereafter I discovered superturbodiesel.com, and started hanging out there; it was awhile later that I discovered benzworld. STD is still my main hangout.
Unfortunately, about a month before my wife died, a deer darted out in front of me on a dark night. I ended up selling that Benz for parts. I do have another W123, a silver '83 300D which I originally bought as a parts car for the '85; it had sat out in a sheep pasture for two years, though under a makeshift carport. I tried starting it about three weeks ago and, to my enormous surprise, it fired right up and runs like a champ. But I've moved now to a much smaller residence, with only one parking space, and I'll use that space for my Ranger pickup truck. So I'm looking to get rid of the '83 300D. I also own a '94 E320 wagon and an '87 300TD wagon, but again have no permanent place to park them, so they must go.
I must add one coda to the story of that Mannheim-built 200. As I turned to walk away from it at the Heidelberg strip lot, having parked it at the end of a row, it occurred to me that I should make some gesture of gratitude at having owned it, of respect for its faithful service. Fishing around in my pockets and looking around the strip lot, I couldn't find anything of a sacred nature to ceremonially bless it with. My eyes then turned to my toolbox, and it occurred to me that the closest thing I had to a treasured sacrificial object was my favorite #2 Phillips-head screwdriver.
So I gently laid the screwdriver in the middle of the driver's seat, "cross" (tip) pointing forward, mentally said a silent "goodbye, old friend," closed the door, turned and sadly walked away.