“Oma” is
German and means “Grandma” or “Granny”. It’s pronounced /’o:ma/.
Even though
I am composing this text in English I will keep on calling Oma “Oma” because
that’s what I have called her all my life and a translation wouldn’t capture
the true meaning of this word for me.
There are
two reasons why I am writing this for my Oma: The first is that last October was
the 10th anniversary of Oma’s day of death. The second is that Oma
was one of my first heroines and it is not exaggerated to say that that’s what she
will always be to me. She looked like a cute little old woman, charming and
caring but she also must have been very, very strong and brave indeed. Some
might call her a feminist – not because of the things she said but rather the
things she did. As a child, the most obvious hint for me that she was different
was that she was wearing trousers and not dresses and an apron. How modern! The
other thing was not so easy to see because it was so normal for me that it took
some time to realize: Oma was living alone and not with Grandfather. When I
finally realized this and asked Mama, I would get the answer that she had left
Grandfather and I wouldn’t ask further.
Later, bit
by bit I learned the whole story but I never mentioned it to Oma herself and
neither did she. Except once that is. Aged 80 she was sitting with my Mama at
the table and I was passing by when she said (to Mama not to me but she knew
that I was within earshot) “Do you think it was right? That I left Papa, I
mean.” To be frank we were shocked! Mama answered and I didn’t dare to
interrupt them but in the retrospective and with what I know today I should
have jumped to her, grabbed her, hugged her and should have said just two
words: “Yes, Oma!”
Of course,
as usual, I used to have two Omas but I’m writing this for my “Wertheim-Oma” –
my Oma who had been living in Wertheim, hence the pet name. However, Wertheim
was not her hometown. In fact, my little Wertheim-Oma had made quite a journey
until she was finally able to settle in what was to become her place of death!
Oma was
born in a town in Silesia and was an only child. I understand that her grandparents
whom she visited quite often were more or less well-off – not really rich I
think but they were able to live in a neat little city house with one of those
beautiful iron-cast balconies at the front. Whenever we saw such balconies she
would smile happily and tell us grandchildren: “My grandparents used to live in
a house with such a balcony a long, long time ago!”
When I
think of Oma I usually picture her on a balcony as well – even though not such
a beautiful one. I see her waving us good-bye from her balcony in Wertheim –
not a very nice one actually with corrugated iron sheet in a wine red color but
still nice in the way that for all my life this was Oma’s balcony. She would
always step out and watch us walking to our parking space. Even though it is
now 10 years since Oma died I can still see her when I pass the house where she
used to live.
Poor Oma
was not born into happy times. She was 10 years old when Hitler came to power
and 22 at the end of WWII. She married her husband when she was 19 years old. I
wonder whether she really was in love with him or not or whether back then he
treated her nicely. We have postcards which at least give you the impression
that as a young couple they were quite affectionate. But this fact actually
makes their whole story only even sadder.
We don’t
have a wedding photo of them – they went to a photographer but Grandfather was
a soldier and Oma was also forced to work away from home. They had taken home
leave for getting married and the family members they left behind had to flee
before they were able to collect the pictures.
After the
war, Oma and Grandfather were lucky enough to be in West Germany (unlike Oma’s
parents) but it took some time until they found a place to stay. In 1948 Oma’s
first child was born, my uncle. Later they found a place to settle in Baden-Wuerttemberg
where in 1949 my Mama was born in a refugee home. Eventually by the help of the
war refugee integration scheme they were able to move into a house there.
However, life still was not easy: Grandpa wasn’t allowed to work in the
profession that he had learned (he was a butcher) and had to work hard to earn
at least a little money – maybe one aspect which made him turn into an
alcoholic in the end. Oma mostly cared for their four children – after my uncle
and Mama two other girls followed. Already when the children were small
Grandfather had turned into a traditional patriarch – beating the children up
for no good reason at all, only giving Oma little money to care for the
household and prepare the meals and then reprimanding her for not buying enough
meat. I know that my Grandfather had had a tough life – losing his father at
the age of 4 in WWI, his mother marrying his cruel uncle, himself not being
able to work in the profession he had chosen and earning more money. However,
you always have a choice and because of the way he treated his family he more
than deserved it that his wife left him in the end.
Even though
Oma and her family might had found a place to stay, they weren’t treated as
normal residents: the stain of being a refugee was not to be removed for some
time. But even though they never had much money, Oma insisted that her children
went to the Gymnasium – the highest secondary school form in Germany preparing
the pupils for an academic career. This was far from being usual at that time!
Oma was an ardent lover of proverbs and one of her favorite ones was “Nobody
can steal what you have in your head!”.
Grandfather’s
behavior got worse over the years. When Mama, my uncle and my aunt had already
moved out of the house, my other aunt, the baby of the family, and Oma
sometimes had to lock themselves in to prevent Grandfather focusing his anger
at them when he was drunk. He even used psychological terror and put a knife in
his little bedside cabinet threatening Oma to kill her.
Oma endured
all this for years and years. Maybe for her children’s sake. The situation had
to deteriorate even further until she finally took action. My other aunt had
moved out and married and with all the children out of the house Grandfather’s
behavior worsened. When Oma had to get her thyroid operated and came out of the
hospital with a fresh operation wound and Grandfather forced her to remove the
water from the basement after a small inundation, watching his weakened wife
while she was doing the hard work and sneering at her, the urging of her
children finally persuaded her to leave him. Remember, this was at a time when
divorces were absolutely inacceptable and leaving your spouse was also out of
the question for most people!
As Mama was
already living in Wertheim, she and her brother and sisters decided to rent a
flat for Oma there. My aunt collected Oma from the house where (against the plan)
Grandfather was also there and certainly not pleased to learn that he was now being left
alone by his wife! I only know little of how he reacted. Of course he was
angry, also with his children. However, he stopped reprimanding them when they
threatened to stop visiting him. Naturally, the relationship of the children
towards their father was never a warm and loving one. Later, when he was
staying in an old-people’s home one of the geriatric nurses once reproached
Mama for coming to visit her father that seldom – but actually it was quite
nice of them not to break the contact completely!
Oma was not
even 60 when she came to Wertheim, the place where she finally found something
which came at least close to a home. But Mama told me that she looked like 80
back then due to the operation and maltreatment of Grandfather.
Social
relationships, e.g. the Wertheimer Silesian Club or the senior gymnastics and
of course a whole bunch of grandchildren helped her recover soon!
She never
had a relationship to another man again. I think she was through with that! In
some ways this was a pity because she really was a charming woman. I remember
her accompanying me to the orthodontist. After the treatment she asked him
whether he remembered her: “We once danced at
a dance event together!”. She was probably 30 years older than him but
she was looking all flirty and attractive, smiling at him a smile that you
could not help to return! She was not really trying to chat him up, of course,
but then and there it struck me that she must have been a damn good catch at
her time. Well, Grandpa, your loss!!!
One of the
few times when I talked to Oma about Grandfather was when she called us to tell
us that he had died. Mama and Papa were still at work so I answered the phone
and there she told me. I was 9 years old and was confused to hear that news
from her as they never really belonged together for me and I didn’t know how to
react (his death, on the other side, wasn’t a real shock as he had been very
ill for a long time and as he never knew how to treat his grandchildren he was
not much closer to me than a stranger). Of course I was sad but during that
phone call I was rather worried about what his death meant to Oma.
I’d love to
see her happier time in Wertheim as her happy ending, but real life usually
mixes too much drama in and true happy endings are rare. Oma developed dementia
in her last years and I guess also a sort of geriatric depression.
She still
missed Silesia very much and often told stories about her childhood there. But
the mood of her stories had changed – she only seemed to want to get as much
stories across as possible rattling on in a monotonous voice without seeming to
realize you were sitting in front of her. I still remember how she told me
about one exceptionally cold winter where she went ice skating on the river and
had frostbite on her toes afterwards. I have heard this story several times but
I remember it how she told it for me the last time. It was the day of her death
and I somehow had the feeling while listening to her that part of her were
already gone – a common feeling when meeting a person suffering from dementia.
The world turns into a hostile place for them because they often don’t
understand it anymore or – even worse – they realize in their clear moments
that their brain doesn’t work properly anymore.
Today we
know that you’re not supposed to convince a dement person when they misunderstand
something – back then we didn’t know and this lead to several disputes with her
(I especially remember when Oma and my aunt visited me in hospital and my aunt
had a quarrel with Oma because she insisted that she never had heard of
carnival in her whole life).
Also, I
still have to cry when I imagine how my Oma had her hair made for the
celebration of her 80th birthday with the Silesian Club and was
waiting in the restaurant in vain for her visitors because she got mixed up
with the date of the Silesian Club meeting! I was so sorry when Mama asked how
it was and she told us in an upset manner “Nobody came!”.
Still, she
sometimes had clear moments. Oma spend the weekend of Mama’s 54th
birthday at our place and on Sunday she and Mama were sitting at the table
together and I passed by as she asked her the question I told you before. I
held my breath and couldn’t move for a moment. After all these years she wasn’t
sure whether her decision had been right! The question caught Mama out of the
blue. Surprised and nearly impatiently she said “Yes!” (a very elongated
“yes”). “Yes, of course Mama.” I can’t remember if I stayed longer but I think
I left the room out of decorum. However, as I said before, I wish I had gone to
her and shouted: “Yes, Oma”. And I wish I had told her that I had the greatest
respect for her for leaving her husband in a time where this was far from being
normal or even socially acceptable! I wish I had told her how she was (and will
always be) my heroine! In some way, life in the end was merciful to her. “One
stroke in old age and that’s it.” That’s what she always said how she imagined
a death with dignity.
The day of
her death Mama and I had decided to take her to us, because we realized that
finally she wasn’t able to live alone anymore. We received the phone call in
the evening. Her neighbors said that Oma had collapsed in the staircase while
talking to a neighbor and friend of her. Mama, Timo and I rushed to her. Timo waited
downstairs to show the paramedics the way as soon as they arrived. Mama and I
went upstairs.
There Oma
was lying, part of her face strangely distorted – an effect of the stroke she
had suffered. She wasn’t addressable any more. Mama turned to me to say
something (I have forgotten what it was) when Oma opened her mouth for the last
time and babbled something. Maybe it meant nothing. But for Mama and me
“Traudl” was discernible. Traudl was Oma’s pet name for Mama. Mama rushed to
her. “Yes, Mama, I am here. Everything will be fine!” I am very happy for Oma
and for Mama that they had this moment together. Oma’s last time she had seen
her own mother must have been some kind of trauma for her: Her mother was in
quarantine in hospital and Oma wasn’t allowed to approach her. She looked at
her through a window several meters away and they were only able to wave
goodbye to each other. We’ll never know whether Oma really was trying to call
Mama but I am convinced that Oma was still there and was able to feel Mama’s
and my presence. The paramedics soon arrived. Oma had suffered a severe stroke
and the doctor later told Mama and my aunt that if she survived, she would be a
complete nursing case.
I woke up
during the night because the telephone rang. I heard how my Mama stood up and
took the call. I heard her leave the house and only then stood up. She had left
a note: “Oma has passed away. I’m in the hospital. Kiss, Mama.”
Despite my
grieve I was relieved: That was what she would have wanted!
I feel
sorry for my little Oma when I think of how many things went wrong in her life.
So at least she had deserved a quick death without ailment. When I pass the
house with the flat that her children had rented for her so that she could
leave her husband, I look up to the topmost balcony on the left and there I can
still see her watching me and waving towards me. Oma, you want to know whether
it was right to leave grandfather? Yes, Oma, nothing could have been more right
and I am and will always be proud of you!
