In memory of....

Every December 15th for the past eight years I have bought my mom flowers. Nine years ago, when I was in the early stages of pregnancy with Pookie, my Oma died. She was my only real grandparent who was consistently in our lives. Every year she would fly over from Holland for six weeks to spend time with us. She spoke almost no English, and I spoke very little Dutch, but we loved to hang out together.

Earlier that year when she visited, I had arranged for a professional photographer to come and take pictures of Oma, my mom, my sister and I. Oma was eighty at the time and I knew that soon she would be unable to make the trip over to Canada anymore. Little did we know, but she was already really sick with a football sized tumour in her abdomen. One of the last things she said to me was that she was longing to see me become a mother and was praying for me in the best way she knew how that it would happen for us.

In early December of 2002, we got a call from Holland. Oma was in the hospital and we needed come quickly. I remember arguing with everyone about whether I should go or not. We had just had a scare with the pregnancy with Pookie and we were on edge about whether I'd carry to term or not. No one was sure that a nine hour flight was good for me. Ultimately we decided that I should stay home.

Almost every year at this time I regret that decision. Oma died one day after her eighty first birthday, Dec 16, 2002. The day before she died, I told her I was pregnant and my mom says that was one of the last times she smiled.

I wish my girls could have met my Oma. She was selfless and gentle. An amazing cook and just a presence that was easy to be with. Bear especially looks so much like Oma with her green eyes and left handedness.

So today the girls joined me in the tradition of honouring their great grandmother by honouring their grandmother with Christmas flowers.