Yesterday was my Gramma’s birthday. She would have been 95. She was my absolutely favorite person in the world. The one I could always turn to when my life was falling apart (which it did from time to time).

My parents were married in 1962 while Dad was on leave from the Marines. He was in Okinawa when I was born and Mom lived with her parents and her brother and sister. There are approximately 287,769 pictures documenting the first 6 months of my life. Gramma and I were best buddies. She took care of me while Mom was at work. I always felt that I had a special place in her heart - even though I wasn’t the first grandchild, or the only girl, or anything like that. I could just feel her love. And lots of times I still do.

I remember her teaching me to dance the polka. (She was Slovak, and was a typical Eastern European babushka). She taught me how to cook pierogis and galumpkis (stuffed cabbage) and beets. She taught me how to crochet. Our afghans weren’t always straight, but they were colorful.

I spent as many weekends at her house as I could. My grandfather died when I was 5. My uncle had already gotten married and moved out by this time. My Aunt married soon after, to a man with 3 kids of his own, and they moved away. She was alone. She joined the local “Senior Citizens Club” - where she was a hit with the gentlemen. She never looked twice at any of them. She had married my grandfather, had 5 children with him, and was never interested in another man.

Her oldest son died at 39, leaving 6 children of his own. You should never have to bury your own child. How true this was for her. She got tears in her eyes every time she talked about “Sonny”.

She took in boarders - Medical students from Wayne State. I had a huge crush on one of them. I always wonder what happened to Dr. Ken. Another favorite of hers was the young lady from Bangkok. Although the combination of boiled cabbage (Gramma) and Thai spices made it impossible for us to spend much time in the kitchen.

She taught me how to drink tea (lots of milk and sugar). And how to play Rummy. And a card game called “Casina”. I’ve forgotten how to play - I’m going to have to google it and see if I can teach it to Shortman.

We burned too many angel cakes and scorched too many lemon meringue pies to count. One day we decided to make this lime Jello/Oreo Cookie/Cool Whip concoction. We made 3 trips to the store for ingredients. Once to get everything. Twice to start over because we messed it up. The first time, we put the jello in an ice-water bath in the sink to set. As she wiped off the table so we could sit down and have our tea before the next step…she threw the dishrag into the sink. Right.Directly.Into.The.Jello. We trudged back to the store. She had never learned to drive. We walked. This time, we put the jello into the freezer to set. It fell over. Back.We.Went. It was the most delicious lime Jello/Oreo Cookie/Cool Whip concoction I ever tasted. Flavored with the tears we shed laughing so hard we cried.

When I got married the first time, she came to my wedding and danced the polka. She had gone to live with my Aunt in Colorado by this time. All of her children were busy with their families, and the grandchildren were busy, and the neighborhood wasn’t what it used to be. So she moved. So many of her things were shipped here and there.

I got her wedding ring - a very plain, very thin silver band that I wear with my own rings (which were my mothers). I also have her Christmas ornaments and her creche. The one that my Grandfather bought her and that always, always had the place of honor on the mantle at Christmas. She always had Christmas Eve at her house, and one of the uncles always dressed as Santa and delivered presents. Every year, when I bring it out, I relive some of those memories.

She had colon cancer and recovered. She had breast cancer, but the Doctors felt that the strain to do a mastectomy was too much. She had had minor heart attacks.

My mother called me one day. I was living with Husband #1 in West Virginia. I answered the phone and knew, immediately, what had happened. Not the details, but the result.

Gramma had been on the phone with my uncle. They were chatting normally - her in Colorado, him in Michigan. He heard her say, as she always did, “Oh Yoy”. Then he heard a thud. And she was gone.

—- Twenty years haven’t made me miss you any less Gramma. Thank you for watching over me. I love you. —-

Trackback URI | Comments RSS