Goodbye Babcia

Monday morning started off poorly enough. I was standing at the bus stop when I heard my cell phone beeping. I had voice mail. My mom had called at about 6 that morning while I was in the shower. Listening to her message, the resignation in her voice shone through. My grandmother was in the hospital and not expected to last the week. I called my mother and she filled me in with a few more details including to expect to attend a funeral on Saturday. We didn't speak long as my bus arrived shortly thereafter.

That afternoon I went grocery shopping but it was hard to do my usual meal planning routine on the fly because I kept thinking about my grandmother. It is from her that I get my Polish blood and she's really the only grandparent I ever knew. My maternal grandfather died when I was about six years old while my paternal grandfather and I, to the best of my knowledge, never crossed paths as he and my father always were crossing swords. I do have some memories of my paternal grandmother but I didn't see her very much as she lived in Minneapolis and she passed away when I was about 10.

So there I was wandering around the store on a chilly afternoon thinking about grandma lying in a hospital bed. Potatoes – I need potatoes. Reaching for a bag, I remember eating potatoes at grandma's place. Of course tears well up in my eye but I hold them back as I have to get through this so I don't have to leave the house during the cold snap heading our way.

Next aisle - Polska kielbasa D'oh! More tears. Steady…steady…I begin thinking that I should go grab some frozen pizzas and be done with it as I've no memories of my grandmother associated with pizza pies. "Aw, fuck it," I think to myself. Why not embrace my inner Polack?

So I buy kielbasa, sauerkraut, and potatoes. I've got pickles at home but I grabbed a cucumber to make cucumber salad. Potatoes go well in pierogi, right? So I walked out of the store with a veritable Polish feast – just like I remember my grandmother cooking. Some Polish beer and vodka and I'll be all set.

That night everyone was asleep except for myself when my mom called. My grandmother had passed away shortly after I had spoken with her earlier in the morning. I thought about the Polish dinners that my grandma had cooked, her smile, and just what an incredibly kind person she was. I thought about those 2 months during which I lived with her and how she'd wake me up by grinding coffee. I remember her telling me stories of growing up on a farm and having to clean the outhouse every Wednesday. She came to Chicago in 1933 to check out the World's Fair. Entranced by the fair, Navy Pier, and all the big city had to offer (presumably including indoor plumbing), she decided that city life beat farm life and decided to stay.

I also thought about all the things she saw in her lifetime. At 93, she saw quite a lot. A world war, the rise of radio, TV, and the Internet; when she moved to Chicago, most rural areas of the country didn't have electricity; she was around long enough to see 13 presidents and the first bi-racial president-elect in our country's history. The idea of Barack Obama being president must have seemed incredibly far-fetched when she was growing up during the Harding administration. The Cold War, the Moon Landing, and on and on.

So goodbye babcia. I miss you very much and will be thinking about you as I roll out pierogi dough in the near future just like you used to do.