Something I Forgot

I can’t remember all the words to the German game my Oma used to play with me. I can’t actually spell the words correctly either but, for the record I never I could. I can’t remember past the first verse “Huppa, Hupps Ryda, Clemmin schnoppin, scynider” which was sung cheerfully as she bounced me on her legs-I was tiny and giggly and I loved that song. I can’t remember her voice anymore either. I can’t remember the way she smelled-which I’m sure was of roladen, pierogi and a culmination of common spices used in German food. I can’t remember many things about her anymore. I was only three when she died from a stroke but her voice was lost long before then. When my mom and I would visit her-we would pack a picnic lunch-always with strawberries, she would pull me in a red wagon to the nursing home-the name is also lost to me.

I can’t remember what my mom would say to her but I suppose I hardly listened, it was to hard for me to understand what was going-to hard to deal with at three. I wouldn’t talk to her much instead just play with the teddy bears on her windowsill-gifts from relatives and friends. The teddy bear rainbow-who was my favorite eventually became mine when she passed away. I like to think that she was content to watch me play- young and so full of life when she was on her last breath. I like to tell myself that even though I said little my presence, my joy, and my naivety kept her happy and content.

I can’t remember where I put the Eulogy and the program from her funeral. My mom used to keep them in a cabinet that was easily reachable and I used to borrow them sometimes to feel closer to her because she so often felt so far away. I can’t remember the words I spoke to my mom when we received the call that she passed. Words that eventually were recited at her funeral because how could a mere three year old be so wise compassionate and lyrical when she spoke. Yet, I spoke them and my mother if only for a moment cried tears of joy instead of sadness. I can’t remember all the words just my mom perched on our windowsill the spasms of her body and volcanic sound of her sobs-the feeling of wanting to make her smile. Yet. I can’t remember the poem, the plane ride, the visit to New York or even the funeral itself- just my mom’s volcanic sobs-her voice frantically telling my dad to write my words down. Yet, only one phrase remains to me “she’s in the sun and your heart”. I can’t remember anything else about her all I have are a few words and phrases-meshed with worn video tapes scattered around the house and vague memories of her funeral-mostly to faded to decipher. I can’t remember most of her and I lost one of the few things I had to hold onto her.