A Few Captured Moments: Oma

Matt's Oma passed away yesterday evening. She would have been 86 years old next month. Like Matt, I'm finding myself at a loss for words. There was none like her, that is for sure.

When she was well, she was full of just about every characteristic I could hope my children will one day see in me. She was wise, very wise. Grounded, loving, sensitive but firm, witty and sweet wrapped all in one. Growing up during different hardships she was resourceful. When I'd complement her on a sweater, I would often hear it was derived from taking apart and re-knitting the useful materials of something old and worn. She was health conscious and preferred a piece of fish and a side of veggies but could make a pot roast, that made mention of, still makes Matt's stomach growl. She came over from Germany in her teens after meeting an American soldier that became her husband. She raised two daughters, Barbara and Christina (Matt's mother), and because of cancer had to watch both of their lives end before hers. She had to bury her first husband and then her second. She also lost her only sibling, a brother, in his teens during war. Yet she exuded gratitude for every day and every privilege, but more than anything, for her grandson Matt. I only knew her for a little over 6 years but I've never known anyone to love like she did. She and Matt shared a love like nothing I've ever seen. They truly cherished each other. It was an unspoken conversation that spoke so clearly in glances and touches. The overwhelming presence of this love consumed a room and nearly brought me to tears on numerous occasions. Watching him with her was one of the many reasons I fell in love with him. If he loved me even a fraction of how much or the way he loved her, I knew I would be happy for the rest of my life.

Matt had the privilege of growing up just a few doors down from his Oma and she was truly a part of his daily life. I didn't know my grandparents well so the thought of that amazes me. She made him snacks after school, had him over for sleepovers, drove him an hour to the nearest airport just so he could watch the planes take off and land. I love the story where she ate his vegetables for him without his parents seeing, so he could be excused from the table. She taught him life lessons while smothering him with love. She taught him the beauty that comes with age and that "wrinkles are just old smiles". I'm already thankful that lesson stuck.

When I picture her, before the last few years, I picture her making an afghan. I can only imagine the number of those things she made. I picture her gardening and talking about her little students who adored her as their volunteer teachers aid. "Busy hands are happy hands" she would say, and her hands were busy. Last night Matt was saying how when he held her hand just a few days ago, it was incredible to think about all of the things those hands had been through and done, especially for him. This is a picture I took when Elyse was 12 months old. There really is so much beauty in those wrinkles and the tales of a colorful life in those spots.

Mark and Matt could write novels, story after story about the amazing woman she was. My admiration for them is even greater after watching them serve her until the very, very end. Every detail of her life was tended to with such thought and care, one of the many reasons I'm thankful to be a Borrack. My stories of her are limited and I'm not doing her enough justice, but in the short time I knew her I felt like I had more grandmother than I'd had my entire life. I saw and experienced generational love and it's amazing. I'm so very, very thankful to have known her. I'm thankful she helped raise an amazing man. I'm thankful she met my children. I'm thankful she is with her own daughters now.

Oma, her husband, Christina and Barbara