Sunday, September 20, 2009
Late Friday afternoon I dug my toes into the warm sand. The beach is unchanged from the days of my childhood and I close my eyes and listen to the roar of the ocean. The tides coming and the wind whips my hair around my face. It's good to be here.
An hour ago my Omi passed away...and somehow words failed me.
Yet, sitting here on a piece of driftwood I remember:
Sitting on two phonebooks at Omi's dining room table when I was just a wee girl.
Her many attempts to teach me to crochet.
The cards and notes she sent me that were always written with a combination German and English.
Walks along the Rogue River.
Trips to this very beach.
I remember that she sent me money for my wedding dress.
And that in every, single wedding photo she is wearing her raincoat.
Holidays, birthdays, beach trips.
Food! Oh heavens there was always food!
I remember when I realized that her breathing had changed and that it wouldn't be long.
Realizing that I was not simply losing my Omi, but what was left of my family.
I recall telephone conversations that were cut short because I had phoned during the airing of her favorite soap opera.
Her love of the National Enquirer (true story folks).
I can hear her sweet, sing-song voice echoing in my mind even as the gulls call from above me.
"I love you Omi."
"I love you too honey."
Rest in peace my dear girl. Thank you for loving me just the way I am. Thank you for loving my Beloved and my children. Thank you for being feisty and waiting to run to Jesus until I got there.