MOG: #12: More than Sparks

Before I introduce our next contributor I have to take a minute and talk to you all. Yesterday we hit 1027 pageviews by 10:00am, by the next 24 hours another 494 were added to the list... that's almost HALF of the first count. I am in complete shock. Thank you all so much for coming back and reading and maybe even rereading these words. You're all becoming part of something much bigger than just a blog. I cannot thank you enough.
LETS KEEP POSTING, SHALL WE?!

Here we have Pauline, one of the sweetest girls in the world. We met through work that happened to be my first summer at camp. I will always remember her patience and her kindness- it's easy to see why she's in Education. We haven't kept too much in touch, but after she saw Jackie's post, she messaged me with hers. This is the first person that has reached out to me first; everyone else I have either prompted or had a conversation with prior to their posting. It's starting, it's really starting. Anyways, Pauline's Facebook statuses give me hope that I'll find a job one day; she's worked her way up to her position, has spent countless hours bettering her skills and resume and always tops it of with a thank you or gratitude- centered reflection. She embodies this project. Her are some beautiful words from a truly beautiful girl.

My Oma and Opa (Dutch terminology for “Grandma and Grandpa”) have been extremely influential people in my life. My mom has had some health concerns over the years and so my big brother and I used to stay with our Oma and Opa quite a bit. They were always there for us, whether it was sharing hot chocolate and cookies after church on Sundays, rubbing my back until I fell asleep when I had a bad case of bronchitis as a little girl, or playing intensely competitive games of Uno. The most important lesson they shared and always modeled however, was pure and unconditional love. My Oma and Opa are the real deal version of true love, and every Nicholas Sparks book. They only ever dated each other, and after years of marriage would still wittily banter back and forth, and shared a look in their eyes that you just knew exactly how they felt for one another.

A few years ago, my Oma was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. I remember her studying small facts that she thought she might be quizzed on at the Doctor’s office, such as birthdays and important dates. I remember reading everything I could about Alzheimer’s, and fully understanding what was to come, but not truly accepting it. At first, nothing seemed to change really, but then things started rapidly digressing and I knew it was only a matter of time before she would forget who I was. Last Christmas, when she was leaving my parent’s house from our family dinner she looked me in the eyes, and made me promise her I would have a good life. I broke down as soon as I turned away from her and in a way I knew this was her way of telling me goodbye.

My Oma was fortunate enough to be placed in a wonderful long term care facility in Ancaster, approximately ten minutes away from her and my Opa’s house. This broke his heart but he was unable to safely care for her at home anymore. However, he goes to see her twice a day, every day to sit with her while she has breakfast and lunch. I wanted to come along with my Opa on these visits, but I am ashamed to say I was afraid to go see my Oma at first in this new setting. I was anxious about how different things would be, and the pain I would feel when she didn’t recognize me. Then something happened. My younger cousin tragically and unexpectedly passed away. I realized we never know how much time we have with the people we love. And I wasn’t afraid anymore of how things would be different with my Oma, because the important thing was she is still here, and I still had the chance to show her I loved her, whether she knew me or not, I just wanted her to know she is loved.

My Oma may seem different now in many ways. We can’t have a typical conversation, and she may not recognize who I am. But the first visit I had with her, as soon as she looked in my eyes, and let me hug her and hold her hand, I knew those things didn’t matter. Now I go to see her every Sunday. On our last visit together, sitting between my Oma and Opa, watching them look at each other, while she held my hand, one of the other residents walked by and simply said “These people look so happy”. This is my moment of gratitude I hold onto. Love and happiness are powerful entities and are not bound by time, illness or memory.