We reserve our respect for the tough people, and the gentle ones often get pushed aside. But maybe the gentle ones deserve our devotion most of all. I know that Oma was not a bold person, that life tossed her about and that she made poor decisions. But reflecting on her life, on all the things we talked about over Speculaas and coffee, on what I witnessed myself, she seems very strong to me. She was full of patience and optimism in spite of all the obstacles. Despite her private burdens, her kindness and generosity never dried up. The cheeky sparkle in her eyes was her quiet defiance, even if she seemed to give in to stronger people.
The Oma I carry in me is the cheerful and talkative one who was always dressed and ready for an outing, always carrying a stash of biscuits in her handbag, always sneaking pocket money for secret treats. She knew that you just keep hoping and trying and enjoying the little things with people that you love. The Oma I bring with me is the one scheming to return to her beloved Europe, the one whose eyes brighten with hope in the face of this impossibility, the one who forged a life on distant and foreign soil, in an unfamiliar language. The Oma I love flatters you with the wrong age on your birthday card, but she laughs freely at herself, and the card is crammed full of sweet words. She makes you dresses that you’ll grow into even if she isn’t sure of your measurements, she takes the bus to the city an hour early to wait for you so she won’t miss a moment with you, she wants to be seen strolling arm-in-arm through Queen Street Mall with you.
We are all making choices, and trying our best to make good ones. As we lay Oma in the earth to rest at last, let’s not judge her too harshly for hers. Some people take life by both hands and wrestle it into the shape they want it to be. Others accept their situation and mould themselves instead, and their quiet contentedness is all you see of a fierce optimism. Her blood and her kindness once flowed through her soft body that hugged us all countless times. Her blood still flows through us, her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and may her kindness too.
Gentle people can be strong too—maybe the strongest.
Sarah Johanna Bruins Groenestyn, 23.03.1926 – 02.04.2016