Plucky Thoughtfullness

I admire you

I admire you.

You see the best in everyone.

Whoever's in front of you. Where he's from. Where he's going. What he's done, what he's doing. You believe in the good in everyone.

Every time I look into your eyes, there's only love. Infinitely wide, great love.

It's bigger than you can imagine.

It's more likely to dive to the deepest part of the ocean than to describe the depth of your love.

Oma, you have the most beautiful heart I know.

If you could see it, it would be dotted with thousands of small, delicate, colorful flowers. In every color imaginable and more. Growing steadily. Your love as fertilizer.

The most beautiful butterflies, the most industrious bees and the sweetest bumblebees would feed on it.

No storm in the world, no hail, no frost could touch your heart.

I can't imagine what you've been through and survived. What your eyes have seen, your lungs have breathed, and your soul has felt.

But nothing and no one has managed to break you.

You are stronger than the roots of the oldest tree on earth.

And even if you do leave at some point, the roots you've left are so deep, no one will ever be able to remove them again. They'll be here forever.

And with every root I stumble upon, whose power divides the earth in two, I will think of you.
Because that's how strong your goodness is.

Your goodness cuts through all hatred, all envy and all anger.

In your world, there are no feelings or thoughts that could harm others.

For you, every human being deserves only the best. Envy doesn't exist in your world.

I admire you, Oma.

You have the most beautiful heart I know.

It hurts so unbelievably to see you age.

The little laugh lines in your eye are getting deeper. Your fingers are getting crooked. The blue veins shine more and more through your delicate, thinning skin.

Your dementia is progressing. It's sitting in your head like a little annoying child, shoving everything you've built with so much care. I don't know what damage it's doing.

I want to grab this little child and shake it. So firm until it comes to its senses and stops.

I want to show him the sadness in your eyes and wash it away from the tears you cry when you notice what's happening to you.

"It's not beautiful to grow old," you say then.

But you're beautiful, Oma.

Back then, you were every boy's flock. I know your stories by heart.

You were a whirlwind on the dance floor. Joyful and beautiful.

I would have loved to have been there. Dragged hand in hand through the streets with you. Satisfied with the things you had back then.

Surrounded by proud men. Quite different from today's consumer society.

I'll always see you in my inner eye. Your laugh. Your joy. Your courage. And your steadfastness.

Don't be afraid, Oma. You're the best person I know. Nobody's going to hurt you. Not even when it's over.

You will one day, hopefully far, far away, walk away from us in the most wonderful way.

And you will come to the most beautiful place there is. I'm sure.

You deserve the best of the best.

I admire you, Oma.

You have the most beautiful heart I know.

I love you.