Well its almost Christmas. I’m sitting here trying to think of all the good and bad things that happened this year, and I really can’t seem to get over the fact that tomorrow is my grandmother’s funeral. I suppose whatever good or bad thing happened to me, it kind of pales in comparison. I mean, she had been slowly dying for the past two years, but the loss is still truly disheartening to me.
I spend the last couple of days at my grandfather’s house, and its even difficult to call it my grandfather’s house. We always referred to it as “Oma and Opas” and now, to say that is almost like cursing; you catch yourself saying it and before you realize it your all hushed, like you swore in church. Its difficult to watch my grandfather now, you can see the sadness in him. 65 years they were married. He talked about the Japanese and how they lived in a concentration camp, talked about going to Holland after the war, coming to America. Always he referred to him and Ma, like she was in the other room.
I miss her a lot more than I thought, I suppose. She was there for every event in my life. Going to Boot Camp, returning from Iraq all those times, getting married, having children, holidays, parties, everything. She got to see her great granddaughter though, and that was something special. Like she knew it was time, but she still was holding out for that last bit of family. The image in my mind; I can see her smile as she looks at the baby, kisses her on the forehead, says a couple of quiet words, and I know she finally decided she was ready to go.
So, as I watch my grandfather, I think about her and the life they had together. I think about how much they loved each other, and how after all this time he loves her more now then before. I hope after 65 years I love my wife half as much. That would be something. Maybe, if I could learn to love my wife the way he loved his, I could possibly be half the man he was. That’s a tall order.
Goodnight Oma. Say hello to my dad for me.