untitled, for now.

Hunh: In my last entry I mentioned my church choir going to sing for Oma, and how happy and connected an experience it was for all of us.

Last Tuesday, my church choir went to go sing for her one last time, in the funeral home where she was temporarily being kept.  I will never forget standing by my brother P1, looking at Oma’s calm face (so *alive* still, so ready to open her eyes and start offering to make us noodles), listening to my choir friends sing "Memory Eternal."  Father M. read a service for her.  It was all very strange and beautiful and headache-inducing.

Oma’s funeral was on Thursday.

There is too much to tell and I have too much to do right now.

I’m glad I got to say goodbye, knowingly.  I don’t think Oma and I have kissed each other so much in one day, ever.  We didn’t cry, only my voice caught in my throat at the end of a prayer, because suddenly I sensed what it all meant – this unimaginably Good God who loves mankind and the way this works for each individual.  Oma’s eyes were full of light (how was that even optically possible?) and she was radiating love.  I could tell from her little restless movements (and how slowly and gingerly Mom and I had to take her to the toilet) that she was in pain, but we didn’t know yet how much (she had a crushed vertebra!), and the patience she had would have done anyone good to behold.

Among the last things she told me was, "Be a good mother to your mother."