30 years ago today (26 February), my Oma passed away from intestinal cancer, 1 month shy of her 66th birthday and about 1 month after the diagnosis. I was nearly 13 when she passed away, just shy of that age where you start appreciating the stories and history your parents and grandparents share with you, if you’re interested in family history and that sort of thing.
A few months ago, one of my cousins asked me what Oma was like, and one thing that struck me recently was that out of all my cousins on my Dad’s side of the family, probably only my brother Brian and I remember or knew Oma the best. Read Remembering Oma 30 Years After Her Passing
Okay, this probably isn’t the best subject to approach on my first blog back for a while, but my Mom said I should write the experience down so I can remember it the next time I get anxious about having a colonoscopy…
My family has a strong incidence of colon cancer. My Oma died in 1987, only a year or so into her retirement, from colon cancer. She’d been showing the signs but wasn’t willing to see a doctor about it until it was too late, and she was given a month to live. I remember the day we found out very vividly. My brother Brian and I came home from school to find my Dad on the phone in the kitchen, and when he turned around to look at us, his eyes were pink and he was upset. I think Brian and I got upset because he was upset, and I’m pretty sure we had a family meeting in the back porch of their house where they explained the bad news.