Oka Pauline Francesca Macdonald

Knowing Oka was a joy and a pleasure! Our conversations were lively and colourful. Every time I think of her, I smile.

My dear friend Oka,

Thinking of you and your family. They lost a very special Mother, Grandmother, Great Grandmother. It had been some time since we talked, and I have missed your visits to the library. Know that you have never left my thoughts, and I will forever remember all our wonderful conversations, your care, and your laughter. I promise I will try to remember to take all the supplements you always told me I needed to take, but never did! I will never forget you, and will always hold a special place for you in my heart and memories. ~Tricia

Our Dearest Oka,

You were such a colourful delight in our lives, we will forever cherish our memories and friendship we shared.

You watched our two girls grow up and contributed in your special way with your treasures you gifted them over time. You gave each of us a “special name” that when you used it in a chat or referenced it, it flooded our minds with wonderful memories and smiles.

We often had chats at the end of our driveway as you stopped by our Farm to buy eggs for you and your neighbor. We enjoyed many dinner parties with you and your wit was always a delight. Your stories of England, Scotland and Holland were exquisite…

I remember coming to your rescue when you occasionally became locked out of your country house and it involved a very tall ladder. That still brings a smile to our faces…

We are so fortunate to have had you grace our lives and one day we will meet again for a refreshment and time together. Until that day we will see you in our dreams and fond memories.

Phone calls were so important and we will always remember your farewell until later.

We love you Oka

Love Angie, Mikayla, Madi and Mike Richardson aka “your Golden Boy”

❤️❤️❤️💙

May you Rest in Peace

My mother was 20 years and 3 months older than me, so my whole life, I followed behind her. She turned 40; I turned 20. She turned 60; I turned 40. This year she turned 97 and, indeed, I turned 77, but for the first time, without my mother. The 77 years we shared were a gift for which I am eternally grateful.

It is almost impossible for me to describe what that has meant to me. Growing up with a larger-than-life, colourful mother was never boring. The teenage years were, surprise, surprise, challenging, but we survived. Once I was in my twenties, we grew closer. Maybe moving to Amsterdam helped. We didn’t see each other that often in those days, so we appreciated the time we were together and made it count.

The fun really started once I had kids. We would go to Canada every second year, and she would come to Amsterdam once a year. Our Canadian summers were legendary, filled with family and joy. One big adventure was our 6-week stay in a former 12th-century cloister in southern France in 1986, when Biko was a year and a half old. On a mountaintop, with no electricity, water that had to be pumped up, and shopping that had to be carted up a rocky path in a wheelbarrow, it was wild and magnificent! I was so proud of her because I was pretty sure that few mothers of her age would have undertaken and enjoyed such a journey. That was my mom, always game!

We spoke for decades at least once a week, long conversations about countless things. Since her passing, I think, almost daily, can I phone mom now, only to realise that she is no longer there. She can’t be called. A cliché that goes through my head these days is that the living can’t really comprehend death. True, but what we do have are memories, and they are important to keep alive. 77 years make for a lot of memories. Many are forgotten, but thank goodness we have photographs! Over time, I will upload pictures taken over her lifetime as a tribute and as a remembrance. Mom, you will always be missed and loved deeply.

On July 12 some of my mother's ashes were buried at my brother Glen's house. Glen's family and a number of cousins were also there as well as my sister Holly, my daughter Biko and her children. She made these photos. Sadly I was still in Amsterdam where we will also have a celebration at the end of the summer.
The end of the Oka era. We will always have our memories.

I Love My Parents . No hate talk with My Mother . Mother is loved and recognized . Moira / Rufus wrote an accurate English History for my Movie Star Mother . You see no HOLLYWOOD will ever replace the real star I always insisted she be . The real star Mother was to my own family . Probably one of the greatest , most challenging person the Creator will ever have the challenge to know . I knew Mother like no other knew Mother . I have no picture for my Mother , only the movies she still is . You see - true love does not really ever die . Her little karma moves on to the good soulful better World she is finally in now .

My dear Oka,

Sitting on a terrace drinking a cold German beer, overlooking some mountains in the Alps I start writing this. Thinking about you. Feeling sad. Feeling lost. With an ache in my heart.

I hate it that you are not here anymore. I would’ve have given anything to have spent some more time with you. Even if it was just sitting on the couch and talk about nothing. Giving you a hug. Blowing the whistle on your necklace. Exchange some stories. About the past, the present. As I have my whole life. I absolutely loved being with you. But you are not here anymore.

Our last moment together was when you were laying in bed with your eyes closed. We called you and said we loved you. You responded by nodding your head as if you heard me. Heard us. I really hope you did. I loved you so dearly Oka. A different kind of love of which there is no other. Maybe it was because the physical distance that made our relationship intense. When we saw each other we made it count! I hate it that you are gone.

You had something extraordinary about you. You brought some “je ne sais quoi” to a room. Liveliness and energy. A certain vibration. You didn’t have an easy life. But you infected people, especially kids (and men😉) with positive energy. That is a superpower. This power is part of how you got so old so strong. I think.

You have been such a big part of my life. Every summer we would drive up your driveway and I would be so excited to see you. You always had a pack of black angus burgers for me, with Helmann’s mayonaise and some good buns. And pink lemonade in those cans from the freezer. Man, how I loved being at your place. Finding all the cats when I would wake up at 3 am because of the jetlag. Jumping on the trampoline in the downstairs living room. Throwing a frisbee in the backyard. Making mac and cheese with Biko in the kitchen. Corn on the cob for dinner outside in the gazebo. So many good memories. Countless good memories. But we won’t be making any new ones. I hate it that you are not here anymore.

Feelings of “I wish I did that” or “I wish I did so” or “I should have called then” or “why didn’t we get one more visit together” try to pop up sometimes. All the time actually. But thoughts like that are not bringing me anywhere positive. I feel so incredibly lucky to have had you in my life. You even got to meet my son! I genuinely think I have to focus on the positive as that is what you would want. I hate that you are not here anymore. It hurts so much. But I freaking love you to bits! I love your colourful dresses. Your sassy nature. Your humor. Your feet rubs (above anything else). I love everything about you. I LOVE YOU OKA. Forever. And I will miss you. Forever. You will forever be a part of me.

I finish writing this in Amsterdam. Looking at an ominous sky. That is mostly dark and grey but it does somehow show some patches of blue.

Sweet Oka, you are not here anymore. You are gone. Never to be back again. And I am trying to give that a place. It’s difficult for me because of our distance. I guess somehow, I have to say goodbye. But I don’t want to and I don’t know how. Talking to you like this helps me. And you know what? I forever will. So I don’t say goodbye. I say talk to you another time. My most beautiful lady in the world.