Grandma Koko

With the arrival of Mother’s Day just days away, there is cause for pause not only with respect to my Mom, but to the other maternal figures I was also blessed to have in my life.

Grandma Koko was my Dad’s mother. I have her to thank (and not Stan the Mailman) for baby blues and blonde hair in the midst of dark-eyed brunette siblings. I recall her assortment of aprons, and the fact that she always baked apples pies and made a mean goulash. She sang with the church’s choral group for years, and every Christmas during Midnight Mass she’d wave to us from the choir loft. But those carols weren’t the only Polish she knew. Her conversations were always peppered with a Matki Bożej or another colorful phrase. I wasn’t always able to translate exactly what she was saying, but definitely knew when she was mad!

In the corner hutch of the dining room was displayed the beautiful china with purple peonies which her cousin George had sent while in the Merchant Marines. One day I had remarked how much I liked it and the next time I came to visit it was gone. She told me with a wink she had put it away for me. Though it is really the only tangible remembrance I have of her, my heart will always be full of wonderful memories of a wonderful person.

Thirteen years may have passed since she has gone, but she will never be forgotten.