My Oma

Photo by Kelly Balch Photography

My dear, sweet grandmother passed away one year ago, yesterday.

She was my Oma, and she was made to be a grandmother.  

Her legacy is as beautiful (and as feisty) as she was.

Photo by Kelly Balch Photography

She immigrated to the United States with her family from Germany when she was 16 years old, met my grandfather in her early twenties, and was married soon after.  They had these three beautiful girls -

- also known as my Aunt Erika, my Aunt Chris, and my mother.

Whenever my sister and I stayed the night at their house, she would tell us the stories of her childhood as bedtime stories. The farm, the ducklings, the first time she saw Ur-Opa after he retuned from the war (her father), the time her brother sliced off the tip of his nose and Ur-Oma (her mother) reattached it with tape...

Ha! *Sniff. Thinking about her brings me joy and tears.

When I think of Oma, I think of strength. I think of compassion. I think of white tennis shoes, large glasses, and the scent of her perfume. I think of her patience, especially when teaching us in the kitchen, of her resilience, especially as a survivor, and her generosity toward her grandchildren, especially with those baby food jar piggy banks. I think of the music box full of Andes mints on the bookshelf, the stash of Rodgers and Hammerstein VHS tapes, and singing along to the "Wee Sing," cassette in her Subaru. I remember the way she said "Subaru"- with her German accent she could never quite pronounce her "R's"...

What I remember most of all was the fierce love she displayed for her family, and the joy she found in every birthday, graduation, report card, camping trip, and hug.

Seeing a person before they die is a precious thing, and I feel so grateful that Mr. Pihl and I got to travel home for her 75th birthday last July (she passed away very shortly after).

The more love you felt from a grandmother, the more it hurts when she's gone. I know it's true, because I still feel an ache.

I know that she'll be there for every wedding and birth in her own way because we will carry her with us. We will honor her because she honored us with her love.

She touched the lives of so many people.

I helped my mother create boards full of photos for Oma's service last year. There were dozens of photos and dozens of people represented in the lovely displays.

She truly loved all children (not just her grandchildren) and I was touched to read this note sent by my grandparent's neighbor's child after my Oma's service.

I'll miss her every day for the rest of my life.