My Oma was born in the Netherlands on February 1, 1906. I don't know much about her life except that she survived 2 world wars, bore 8 children and remained married to the same man until he died. I did not see my grandparents often but they did figure prominently in my life as they visited us every two years in their retirement. Oma lived until she was 95, healthy and surrounded by her loving family. My mother, sisters and I had the great priviledge of celebrating her 90th birthday with her in Holland in 1996.
Even though I was English speaking and Oma was Dutch, we were able to communicate. Oma always brought delicious treats for us and was very generous in giving them out. All we kids had to do was ask her the question, "Oma, kan ik een snoepje hebben?" (May I have a candy?) and she would go to the stash in her bedroom and come out with something good. She had dropjes, Dutch peppermints and heart candies that melted in your mouth.
She was a typical Dutch Oma with beautiful white hair, an ample bosom and flowery dresses. Much of the Dutch I knew, I learned from her and I remember a phrase that she spoke often to Opa when he would tease her, "Nay vader, dat is niet waar! Niet waar!" (No father, that is not true! Not true!)
I remember when I was very young we would occasionally get care packages from Oma. There'd be women's magazines, a bit of candy and wool stockings for the girls. Oh how I hated those wool stockings! I have an allergy to wool so they would itch my legs so badly I could hardly walk. I'd go to the washroom numerous times during the day just so I could take them off and get a few moments of relief. I felt guilty about hating them. After all, they were a gift from my Oma, they were supposed to keep my legs warm in the winter and they looked nice-at least that's what my mom said. All I remember is that they were gray and horribly, painfully, awfully, itchy and they turned my legs bright red.
But my memories of Oma are still fond. Her death didn't change my life much because I was quite used to living without her but still, every now and then I think about her and wonder about her. I suspect that there are a lot of things we have in common. I know she enjoyed doing the crossword, which is something I like to do too. She enjoyed cooking, a gift that she passed on to her daughters and then to her granddaughters. She also wrote letters to us on somthing we called "Airmail forms." These were thin pieces of paper upon which you wrote your letter and then licked the tabs which were on three sides to seal it closed. Oma would fill every space on that paper, sometimes adding the last sentences in the side margins. She was accustomed to being thrifty and using every available space.
The last time I visited Oma was in 1999 and though her memory was fading, she knew who I was as soon as I entered her room. She seemed genuinely glad to see me although Wes did not receive the same treatment as she glared at him everytime she noticed him and asked what that man was doing there.
Oma died peacefully in her sleep at the ripe old age of 95. She lives on in her children and grandchildren.
7 comments:
I think that is the first picture I've ever seen of her. I had no idea what she looked like.
Thanks for this post. Lovely.
Same. You can see a bit of Oma in her.
When Lydia was born, Opa had just died. Mom called Oma in Holland and told her that we had a beautiful baby daughter and named her Lydia. Oma thought we named Lydia after her (her name was Leena, I think). It made her day, and that story still brings a tear to my eye, that we were able to make her day that way.
I didn't know that Bert. Neat story.
She sounds like a most remarkable woman. This is a lovely tribute.
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