The day my grandmother died.

I had the privilege of having been my Oma's favourite grandchild. I suppose I spend a lot of time at her place and most of the others were far away... and I tell you, she was a dream grandma. Not only could she cook VERY well and had lots of treats at her place, but no, she could also knit like an express train which is a very valuable skill indeed, especially if you're a mother of dolls which needed lots of nice clothes. She not only knitted superb doll's clothes, but also jumpers and socks... I suppose Germans and knitted socks go together like butter and bread and you can see with your mind's eye the typical German wearing some knitted socks in his/her sandal while tourist-ing around the world.... I guess I had my share of knitted socks although I don't fancy them anymore... as matter of fact our dog used to loved grandma's knitted socks as well and would chew them up, he got totally crazy about freshly worn and smelly ones especially,...

...but I digress... uhm... where was I... anyway, I loved my grandma as a kid and spend lots of time at her place.

But oh the cruelty and ignorance of youth, when I got into the... uhm... more difficult time of live (meaning, I became a moody and aweful teenager) I didn't spend as much time at her place anymore, in fact, she slightly annoyed me, even her heavenly cooking.

Around that time my parents moved out. Fancy that... every teenagers secret wish, right??? I was 16 and my brother 5 1/2 years older (he still is 5 1/2 years older, that hasn't changed). They had to move to Berlin because of business and would only come home every 3 or 4 weeks or so. We had a great time. Mainly I lived of package food but once a week we'd eat at grandma's and another day a week at my other grandparents... and Oma would come once or twice a week to clean up, do the laundry and cook. In my ignorance and cruelty it really annoyed me then... but now, ou how wished she could come over now and cook and do the laundry and do some cleaning.... NOW I do appreciate it SO much.

I used to ride a 80cc motorbike. One day I came back from school, parked my bike, walked through the front door and saw her basket sitting there. And my thoughts were: "Ou no, grandma is here!" Ou how I wished I could undo these thoughts and the emotions connected to it, but somehow thoughts and emotions are so much quicker than your brain and often I feel or think things I don't even WANT to think or feel. But before I could go upstairs the phone rang and I went into the office right next to our front door. It was my aunt and she asked me to quickly come down to her place. She lived in the same village, like almost every one of my family back then. So I drove my bike down and then my aunt told me that Oma had had a stroke this morning and had died. She wanted to come up to our place but didn't feel so flash, so she called her friend and asked her to drive her up to our place instead of walking. When she wanted to get out of the car she collapsed and shortly afterwards died in her friends arms. It was a very merciful death thinking about it... no sickness, no pain, no waiting to die, just quickly dying in your friend's arms.

That was back in the year Lady Di died. And Mother Theresa. And just few days later my grandma. The year 1997. Such long time go, 14 years, but I still miss her at times. I'm not exactly sure why I am writing this, but it has been on my mind lately. The regret, that I didn't spend more time with her when I could have done so. The pain over those blasted feelings and thoughts I thought and felt just minutes before I heard she was no more. The wonderfully yummy food.

I think it all comes up now because we're going away... so far, far way... and my other grandparents get older and frailer... so do my parents... so much can happened, so much will happen, good or evil, because that is live. And I regret that I haven't done so many things... why haven't I visited them more often and redeemed the time. Laziness. Ignorance. Cruelty of youth... umm... middle-aged-ness.

The memory of the day my grandma dies is always mingled with this aweful feeling of annoyance and then the pang of guilt and not ever being able to say sorry again. It makes me want to wake up Ned and cuddle him and say sorry I was cross with him for pooing in his knickers once more. It makes me want to run down the hill to the office and tell Ben that I really do love him A LOT. It makes me want to pick up my sleeping baby and squeeze him and hold him tight and say sorry I got upset with him for being drama queen at mealtimes.

Life is so short, precious and fragile and something can happen any time, just look at what happened in Japan... and then you have to live with loss and regret. I often struggle so hard to make life count. You get so tangled up in the nothings of every-day-living that you loose sight of the greater picture. But there is forgiveness... it's just a prayer away. Every single one of us mugs up at times. No one can ever say: "My life was perfect. I regret nothing."

I'm so grateful that there isn't anything "bigger" to regret, thanks to God, and I know my grandma would have forgiven me if she'd known. And He has forgiven me. The memory might always be slightly painful, but I try to do better, although it's so darn difficult.

"LORD, what are human beings that you care for them,
mere mortals that you think of them?
They are like a breath;
their days are like a fleeting shadow"

Psalm 144:3+4

"The LORD is compassionate and gracious,
slow to anger, abounding in love.
He will not always accuse,
nor will he harbor his anger forever;
he does not treat us as our sins deserve
or repay us according to our iniquities.
For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his love for those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west,
so far has he removed our transgressions from us.

As a father has compassion on his children,
so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him;
for he knows how we are formed,
he remembers that we are dust.
The life of mortals is like grass,
they flourish like a flower of the field;
the wind blows over it and it is gone,
and its place remembers it no more.
But from everlasting to everlasting
the LORD’s love is with those who fear him."

Psalm 103:8-17