Remembering Oma

1972-with-oma

Remembering my dear oma, who was born on this day in 1909 and passed away on 26th of December, 1996. What would I have done without you?

“Frida carried herself with dignity. She was delicate, and small, but very strong. When she made spaetzle, a Southern German pasta delicacy, the recipe called for her to beat the dough continuously for half an hour. She did so without a problem while I barely managed five minutes before it felt as if my arm was falling off. Her skin felt like soft, warm leather with thousands of fine wrinkles. When she smiled, her entire face seemed to shine with her strong but tender soul.

My dear oma (as we lovingly call our grandmas in Germany) was modest. All of her clothes were handmade. Her kitchen was cozy and stocked with very few items for herself. The shelf dedicated for me overflowed with cookies and other delicacies she knew I loved. Oma was calm and had a German proverb for every occasion. The one I still remind myself of, whenever life seems to spiral out of control, is: “The stew is never eaten as hot as it is cooked.” Sometimes Oma got upset. On those occasions she would clap her hands together above her head and exclaim, “Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay!” The effect would be so comical, I wouldn’t know what to do – laugh at her or fold my arms around her in an attempt to comfort her. When Frida listened to me, the world stood still and gave me a chance to catch my breath. When she took me in her arms, I felt safe and loved unconditionally.

Frida was my guiding star. She was strict, yet generous. She was serious, yet had a beautiful sense of humor. Most importantly, she was loyal and had the biggest heart of anyone I have ever known. She became my knight, or rather, dame in shining armor and made it her purpose in life to make time for me whenever Konrad and Hildegard did not. She quietly saved my soul, by being an indestructible protectress who was always there no matter what happened to me, no matter what I did, no matter how devastated she felt herself. My oma became the only rock in the raging tide, keeping me sane throughout my childhood and teenage years.”

(Excerpt from Paralian, Chapter 3, “North Sea”)

You’re always with me, never to be forgotten.

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