Grandma

Memories of childhood, who wouldn’t have them.

The best chicken soup I’ve ever had. I remember it being served to me after a lecture at college.

To the homemade, hand-pulled strudel cake, the best in the world, in the kitchen of a Petržalka apartment. A Sunday family afternoon in the 90’s couldn’t be without it.

To a village called Hrnčiarske Zalužany, where our roots lie and where my grandmother grew up from 10 siblings. We had been there a few times when we were kids. I still remember how we went with her brothers Jano and Palo and their neighbors Rumcajz and the Stutterer for šťavica (a source of thermal water nearby). And how they skinned rabbits in the yard. Back then fully normal.

Memories to such a long marriage that we couldn’t even count it accurately for the funeral. True love as it was used to be. And now their together again, finally.

To the incredible parties n the early nineties, when Shegi and I used to gawk at all the bohemian stuff from the opposite end of the balcony in the living room (they lived on the first floor, as a kid it was no problem at all to climb up). That was when Omama was still alive and the Marseillaise was being sung, I couldn’t even count the people in the room.

Or when, as a 12 year old, my hairdresser cut my hair too close (with a razor) and I was greeted with the words, “are you part of the skinheads now?”. (no hair and empty brain was somehow fashion back then).

I don’t know anyone who has spent more time cleaning in their life. And she enjoyed it! Even though she claimed otherwise. “It won’t fix itself.”

I also don’t know anyone who lived to be 91 and a half after cancer at 45. That‘s only for the strongest.

She was in Prague as a young „unionist“, and when her short-term memory was no longer serving her, she kicked her long-term one in and we also learned what didn’t happen. Was lots of fun though.

When I came back from my trip around the world and she was already mixing up things – but still functioning at home on her own – she asked me 5 times in one visit when I was going to get married. She won’t see it anymore, unless everyone up there gets a front row ticket one day. That’s the way it is, they stay with us and accompany us through everything… That strong and traditional generation of our grandparents, who lived through the village till the cities and several totalitarianisms, but didn’t run away scared. There are more and more of them leaving and we realize once again that our life here is limited. All too often we forget what is really important – family and love. Nothing more, nothing less…

I am thankful for my family. Even though it’s dwindling over time… Even more. It was and is a good family, I don’t think it could have been better. She was an important part of it.

We don’t want to grieve. We want to remember. When the scales fill, redemption from the pain is more important than staying at any cost. 91 and a half and 95% of it a great life. Who can say that. We can only envy.

I can totally see her up there making Čigi’s (grandpa) breakfast, lunch and dinner, sitting down to a soap opera at 5pm, coffee, biscuit. My mom rings them, all their siblings join too (where out of 15 on both sides only one lives today)… And they are all fine. In that bohemian Petržalka apartment that was part of the family too.

And they are waiting for the rest of us. One day we will unite again.

Death belongs to life. Some are born, others die. We are nothing but a drop in the ocean. The important thing is to live so that we can look at ourselves in the mirror. So that we have no regrets. To live each day to the fullest, with those closest to us. To not forget others around us. Both known and unknown.

I missed it for a moment… The reality of today’s times took me. But it’s back. She reminded me.

Rest in peace. And say hello to everyone up there…