Oma has Graduated with Honors
On Friday, May 12, my Oma graduated from this life. She did so without Pomp and Circumstance. No one read her name as she crossed the stage to receive her diploma (at least not a voice that we could hear). After 93 years of working toward a heart and head full of knowledge, she completed her studies.
Though there wasn't earthly fanfare at her graduation, there certainly was in heaven. Oma was a humble woman who loved the Lord, and I have no doubt that there was quite a celebration upon her arrival.
Oma, or Alice Jean Scott, was a faithful wife, mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. She was married for 68 years at the time of my grandfather's death. Oma raised three sons and a daughter. Though two of her grandchildren preceded her into heaven, she leaves behind seven more to carry on her legacy. The 13 great-grandchildren that didn't get to know her well, will be left with stories of her remarkable life.
I was the first of her grandchildren, born on her birthday. I remember her laugh at my question one year when I ask her "Oma, since I'm 6 and you are 60, will you turn 70 when I am 7?" Her reply was something along the lines of "Let's hope not, because by the time you are 12, I will be 120!"
Oma was certainly not perfect, and I'm sure she had her struggles just as the rest of us have. But, she was fully devoted to her family, and worked so very hard to maintain her home. If "mothering" and "grandmothering" were a sport you could letter in, she would have run out of room on her letterman jacket.
The things I remember about her are silly, but they are my memories. Whenever my sister and I spent the night at her house, she would make waffles (with added wheat germ). In our younger years, she would help cut them into bitesize pieces. As she slid the knife through the sections she would say "Up this street, and down this one."
There was always sliced cheddar cheese on a plastic butter dish in the door of the refrigerator. It's likely I may have snuck a few slices over the years. Her green beens were always from a can, and each Christmas she would make Long Johns (donut sticks covered in frosting and chopped peanuts).
Then there was the plastic. The reused plastic bags. The plastic that for many years covered the couch. Plastic was on the tables and plastic was on the floor. Truth be told, I hated that plastic as I felt it pointed to my perpetual childhood sitting at the kid's table. But to her credit, the carpet was alway clean. Mine, is disgusting.
My Oma and Opa loved to hike. Many times I went with them into the Sandia mountains, or occasionally, climbed to other peaks elsewhere in the state. I remember the orange color of the backpack and the squeak of her hiking boots. Once, as my grandfather walked ahead, she and I stopped to feed carrot sticks to the marmots.
As we gather together to remember Oma's life and to honor her, I'm sure there will be countless stories passed around about the character, gentleness and kindness of this woman we all loved.
I think it only fitting to conclude with the closing song from the Lawrence Welk show, the only TV program aside from the news that I ever remember being allowed to watch at their home.
My dearest Oma:
Good night, good night until we meet again
Adios, au revoir, auf wiedersehen 'til then
And though it's always sweet sorrow to part
You know you'll always remain in my heart
Good night, sleep tight and pleasant dreams to you
Here's a wish and a prayer that every dream comes true
And now 'til we meet again
Adios, au revoir, auf wiedersehen
Good Night!
Good night, sleep tight and pleasant dreams to you
Here's a wish and a prayer that every dream comes true
And now 'til we meet again
Adios, au revoir, auf wiedersehen
Good Night!