I normally save this space for light-hearted fun, but my heart is heavy. My beautiful grandmother passed away last weekend. She was a mother of 7, a grandmother to 12 and a great grandmother to 10. She was the kindest person that I have ever known, and I was lucky enough to call her my Grandma. She lived in a senior living facility for the last few years of her life and I went to visit her every week without fail. I even bought her a cell phone from a website like https://www.fanmisenior.com/cell-phones-for-seniors/ so that we could call every evening too. She used to love talking to me and I loved chatting with her too. We used to have such good conversations together.
beautiful painting done by a friend. perfection.
She was a lover of trashy romance novels, tootsie rolls and Bob Barker. She was the epitome of patience, faith, beauty and love. She was a wonderful storyteller, a talented crocheter and an amazing cook.
smiling in the kitchen
this is how i will always remember her
she’d be mad at me for posting this picture but i love it. the mess. the hand on the hip. her expression. she meant business in the kitchen. it’s hereditary.
Most of my memories of my Grandma are in the kitchen surrounded by family. She was a messy cook, but every dirty dish and splattered wall was well worth the meal. She made the most amazing stuffed cabbage, pierogies, kielbasa and potato salad. She was famous for her peanut butter balls, ricotta cake and babka
, just to name a few. My Dad has been trying to master her turkey gravy for years. I think he’s pretty close.
making grandma proud
left: my sister, cousin and i rolling pierogies. my sister is thrilled to be at the “filling” station.
right: years later still rolling pierogies.
I learned so much from her in the kitchen. She taught me that a meal tastes better shared at
a table surrounded by loved ones. That pierogi dough requires patience, just like most things in life. That ice cream can make anything better. That food is love.
I’m finding comfort in the kitchen as I aways do. It’s my happy place. It was her happy place. She may be gone, but I will have those kitchen memories forever and my family will certainly enjoy her recipes for generations to come.
grandma with all of her grandkids