First Day No Oma

Today is the first day of my life without Oma. She died last night.

Oma and Opa are classic U.S. immigrant stories. They came over from Holland after World War 2. They had kids (Steve, Elizabeth, and Wendy--Elizabeth is my mom), got decent jobs, got settled in the Charlotte area.

At age 40, once the kids were off to school, Oma got a job as a teller at a small branch bank. Over the next 30 years, she became one of the most influential international bankers in the bank-saturated Charlotte area as she served as the head of the International banking department for a number of banks.

She served on boards and committees, met heads of state (her favorite was Margaret Thatcher and there are several pictures of her and Thatcher around her house), and traveled the world. She ended up in places of tremendous influence and leadership through the force of her gracious and warm personality. In a business that is driven by number-geeks and cut-throat stock bolstering and greed, Oma thrived and built business through genuine friendships. Long after she retired and into her 70's, she was receiving job offers and invitations to sit on boards.

But to me, she was Oma. She doted on us with unabashed love and affection. She cooked tremendous meals, laughed at our jokes. She was our biggest cheerleader. As my brother and I grew up and we grew to love football, she decided to start watching football, too, so we'd have something to talk about. I was the first grandchild, "born in her house" as she always reminded me--not literally, but my mom did come back to their house to have me.

Oma and Opa's house on Paradise Circle was (and still is) a mythical place. To a military kid who moved every three years, this was stable, the place where we came back for Christmas's and Thanksgivings and summer vacations no matter where we lived.

Oma is gone after a long fight with a number of illnesses that were besetting her aging body. She would have been 85 or 86 this weekend--I'm not entirely sure as her actual birth date was a closely guarded secret. She is survived by Opa, the man who I'm named after, and all three of her kids.

Today is the first day of my life without Oma. I'm tremendously glad to have been blessed with such a tremendous grandparent, it's been a privilege to be in her life for all these years. But still, I can't help but feel like life's a little emptier without her.