In Loving Memory

I thought I would be prepared for this day. I remember one day when I was in high school and a fellow classmate got a call that her grandmother passed away. I remember her crying so loud that it echoed in the hallways. The class went silent. I felt horrible for her. I could never imagine what she was feeling, the pain, the heartache, nor did I ever want to. Inevitably, that day arrived yesterday for my family. 

For a while I was mentally preparing myself for the passing of my Grandma. In a way I already mourned her death. My Grandma suffered from dementia, a horrible disease that turns your loved one into a shell of a person who they once were. It robs them of their memory, takes away their ability to move, steals all the love they have to give to you. And you are left with a shell of a person who just stares at you; where you know deep down inside they recognize you, but they try so hard to remember who you are and they cannot. If you are lucky, you may get a moment of remembrance, they may say your name, or there is something that triggers a memory that they can recall, but in the blink of an eye, it is gone. 

For the past while, my Grandma’s health was declining, slowly, but declining. She went from walking without help, to being bedridden all within a few short years. She lived in a long term care facility just across the border on the US side in Lewiston, and due to Covid, we could not cross the border and see her in person anymore. Each time my Mom would call, I would think to myself, “Oh no, please no” and I would hold my breath. Then I would hear her jovial voice say “Hi there, whatcha doing?” and I could breathe again.   

My phone rang again yesterday morning. It was on silent, so I didn’t hear it. Something made me look over and I saw it light up and it read “Mom’s Cell” My heart stopped. I knew deep down inside it was that call. I answered and said “Hello?” and all I heard behind tears was, “BJ?” I immediately burst out crying. Mom could barely utter the words “Grandma passed” We are all devastated.

I knew this time would come, as it does for us all, but hearing those words makes it final, and you are never really prepared. 

All day I cry, I mourn the loss of a woman who was the strongest person that ever walked this earth. I am still crying. 

My mind is flooding with memories, like a tidal wave comes crashing in and I’m trying to relive and remember each and every single one of them vividly, but as quick as they come in, they go away, and I begin to cry again.

I want to remember all the good times we shared, all those little moments together, her mannerisms, her accent, the smell of her V05 hairspray as it filled the air, how she hummed when she cooked, how amazed I was how she could finish a 300 page romance novel in a day, our shopping trips to the BonTon at the Walden Galleria Mall, the taste of her Christmas cookies, her touch, her hugs, her sneaking me candy, or going to the store and buying me the latest Disney VHS release, taking the bus downtown to buy me for Christmas the record “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer” and doing the “Chicken Dance” together. Gardening in the backyard picking tomatoes to make homemade sauce, the taste of her pierogi, walking us to the walkway at school and we’d wave back to you so you knew we got to school safely, our weekend trips to the German Deli to pick up the freshest bratwurst, wiesswurt, landjaeger sausages and picking up the latest edition of the Deutsche Press, the sleepovers at her house during Easter, walking hand in hand with her to church all dressed up to get the Easter baskets blessed, walking to the Broadway Market to buy fresh butter lambs, chocolates and meat, her “chocolate soup” as she would call it, even though it was made from duck blood! Joking together we were twins because we both had hip replacements, your stylish babuskas, you and Mom putting lemon juice in my hair when I was little, how you would sit in between Nadia and I and go back and forth shovelling food into our mouths until we were stuffed like chipmunks, how you had that little “old lady container” next to your bed that you kept your teeth in and we teased you about it! Your love of word search puzzles and the Sunday Comics from the Buffalo Times, your weekly visits to the casino with Grandpa and how he resented all your windfalls because you had a “horseshoe up your ass” as he would say, the potato placki and your homemade applesauce you made every Friday night, putting apples in the left over pancake batter on Saturdays and we’d nibble on them all day long, you would cook all the food for our Communion dinner parties we had in the backyard, making sure we ate all our food, cleaned everything up, dishes washed and put away before we could open gifts on Christmas Eve, all of us picking you up from work and giving you the tightest hug because I missed you so much and I’m afraid I will forget them.

It’s the memories and stories of our loved ones that keep them alive in our hearts. 

I have videos that I replay, to watch her, to listen to her voice, to see her move once again. My Grandma was one of unconditional love. She loved us more than anything in this world. When I came out to my family, and I told her, she said to me, “BJ, don’t worry about the others, they will come around eventually.” She loved me no matter what during a point in my life when it felt like no one else did. 

This is a woman who survived the war, survived tuberculosis, survived starting a life over again with nothing. She saved her hard earned money to buy us gifts, and passed on her family traditions. She could whip up a three course meal in 20 minutes, loved playing bowling on the Atari with us, we would watch The Golden Girls, Dynasty and I Love Lucy together. We would take turns to sleep with her in the pull out sofa when she came to visit every weekend to look after us even though she worked all week long. She never complained. She loved her family and we loved her. I am extremely fortunate that I got to spend so much time with her, that she could see me get married and be happy. That she got to meet Milo, whose middle name is in her honour.

As much as I did not want her to go and join the spirit world, a part of me is relieved she has crossed over. There is no more suffering, no more pain. You are finally at peace Grandma.

The time comes to an end for all of us at some point, and Grandma, like you always said you would do, you finally “Kicked the bucket” 

This isn’t goodbye, it is until we see each other again. 

Give Grandpa and Uncle Ernie a big hug and a kiss from us all. 

I love you more than you know. 
I wish I could see you just one more time⁣
Come walking through the door⁣
But I know that is impossible⁣
I will hear your voice no more

⁣⁣I know you can feel my tears
And you don’t want me to cry⁣
Yet my heart is broken
Because I can’t understand
How someone so precious had to die⁣⁣

⁣I pray that God will give me strength⁣
And somehow get me through
As I struggle with this heartache
That came when I lost you⁣⁣

-Blowing Kisses to Heaven⁣

⁣⁣ ⁣⁣