Getting ready for the funeral

[mrsbrown]

I'm off to Oma's funeral tomorrow morning.  It sounds like some of the stuff I wanted will be included, although I'm a bit concerned about using the chapel at the Funeral Parlour.  Most importantly, I think some of the nice stuff I wanted to have happen will be able to happen at the pub  afterwards over lunch.

I've always said that I wouldn't speak at a funeral so that I can cry as hard as I need to.  But somehow, with mention of the words, "oldest grandchild", I succumbed. 

The work my Oma did was never counted by the Australian government, because my Oma made people.

My Oma made my mum, my Aunt and my Uncle .  Through them she made me, my sister, my aunt's children and my uncle's children.  And we’ve made more people.

But Oma didn’t just cause babies to come into the world.  She made herself an important part of who we are.

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When I was small Oma and I made biscuits at her kitchen table.  We mixed the flour, butter and sugar (in the magic 3:2;1 proportion) into dough.  We rolled them into sausages and cut them in rounds.  There was science in the way we laid the rounds on the tray, leaving enough space but stacking as many as possible.  And when they were cooked Oma encouraged me to hand them around to the rest of our family.

Today, I make those biscuits for my friends.  I think of her every time I roll the dough and lay the biscuits on the tray. 

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Oma always worked with her hands. She painted, embroidered, tatted, sewed, and cooked.  She also did less conventional things.  She played with gadgets and she rode her bike to get around.  My Oma also made movies.

As well as the predictable home movies of children falling after taking their first steps, she also had fun with stories. When I was about 10 my sister and I were filmed making salad. Oma had mounted the camera upside down so that the film went backwards and showed us unslicing carrots and cucumbers, and slurping chopped vegetables out of the bowl. It was daggy, but memorable and sort of interesting. Actually, I think she was a geek before people knew what that was.

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One of my most vivid memories is of a conversation we had when I was about 8. We were walking along a main road together and I noticed that the lights ahead were in our favour. I urged her to run to catch them, but Oma wouldn't run because she couldn’t. My small self declared that if I couldn't run I would prefer to die.  Oma calmly accepted my words and told me that I would probably change my mind when I got older.

I remembered that conversation when I was first pregnant and couldn’t chase a tram and I now I think on it almost every time I glory in running for a tram or the lights.  Oma taught me to keep going.

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I always knew that it was bad to throw out food.  I didn’t know it was part of Oma’s teaching until this week, when I found out that everyone in my family does it.  One of my cousin’s described moving food near its use by date into new containers so her partner didn’t know and would still eat it.  As we sat around the table, we nodded and agreed that it was the right thing to do.

And, as I spread butter on my bread I hear Oma say; “It’s ok to use butter, you just have to spread it as thin as margarine”

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I’m going to miss Oma’s mix of Dutch and English.  I’m going to miss struggling to understand her Dutch and only understanding little bits.  I’m going to miss hearing her say my name.  I only realised this week that she said it in the same tone she used when she called me lieve hart, or dear heart.

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I’m going to think of Oma when I;

Spread butter on my bread

Make biscuits

Run for the tram

When I drink a cup of tea from a thin lipped cup

And when I hold my grandchildren in my arms for the first time