One Year Later

It’s been a year since Grandma Magda passed away, and I find that I’m now able to think and laugh about happy times without getting as sad. But at other moments, I feel sadder than I did a year ago — as more time passes and there is more that I’m not able to share and experience with her.

I miss talking with her. She had a way of making people feel so special, so heard. If you were at her kitchen table, you were the guest of honor, and she wanted to know everything.

I am thankful she’s with me all the time, and that I hear her speaking in my head most days. Today, I thought I’d share some of what she tells me.

When Annabelle amazes me while putting on a show or doing something funny, I hear Grandma saying, “This child! She is so creative! Who else would think to do something like that?!”

When I look at Ayla, I hear Grandma saying, “Now I have to be careful not to show favoritism. But she is the prettiest baby in the world.”

When I’m cutting strawberries and questioning whether a piece is too bruised, I hear her saying, “Eh, it’s fine. Just cut around it.” Then I picture her popping it in her mouth and enjoying it.

On Hanukkah, one of the first holidays without her, as I was trying to figure out which traditions to carry on with my family, I heard her saying, “Honey, make it whatever you want it to be.”

When I was feeling sad about our first Mother’s Day without her, I heard her saying, “Try not to be sad. Enjoy this day with your beautiful family.” I listened and she was right.

When Adam is cooking a delicious meal or giving our kids a bath, I hear Grandma marveling over the way we share parenting and household responsibilities. I hear her telling me how Grandpa Bobby was ahead of his time and helped with everything — except for dirty diapers.

When I sing to Ayla and Annabelle, I hear Grandma singing to me. When I make hot chocolate, I think of Grandma standing at her kitchen stove making it for me as a kid. It was the best hot chocolate, of course. When I light a candle, I think of Grandma lighting Shabbat candles during Friday night sleepovers at her house.

When Ayla doesn’t want anymore baby food, I hear Grandma saying, “No sale!? All right. No sale.”

When I’m feeling down, I think of what Grandma would say to her audience: “You have to have faith, fantasy, hope, drive, determination and the belief that tomorrow will be better.”

When I’m debating making the case for something, I hear Grandma saying, “It never hurts to ask. You won’t know unless you try.”

When I’m stressed about a work project, I hear Grandma say, “No one gives a damn how much work went into something — they only care about the finished product.”

When our basement flooded the week of Christmas and we were already sad about not being able to travel for the holidays, I heard Grandma, ever our relentless optimist, saying, “Thank goodness you were here to handle this! You normally would have been out of town!” She could always find the bright side.

When I indulge in something pleasurable, like eating a great piece of chocolate or relaxing in a hot tub, I hear Grandma saying, “This is heavenly.”

When I feel overwhelmed by hatred and injustice in the world, I hear Grandma saying her three lessons: “Think before you hate. Protect your freedom. Stand up to the deniers.” These lessons ground me, and help me get to work.

I’m so proud that Grandma’s words are now enshrined on her headstone, so that everyone who comes here can remember her lessons and her legacy. Thank you to everyone who helped contribute to making this possible.

We are so lucky that we had the opportunity to love her and be loved by her. We’re so lucky that we get to carry on her wisdom and her legacy.

Last winter, while participating in a workshop, I did an exercise to visualize my inner mentor. The idea is that the wisdom and guidance we need already lives inside of us. It should come as no surprise that I pictured Grandma Magda. She is my guide. She lives on in me, and she lives on in all of you.