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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: FAMILY VACATION (07/30/15)
Mom's mom, Gram Patterson treated my sis Barb and me to a flight from California back to our native Ohio. She was presenting us as a surprise to Gram Hruska. Barb and I were sixteen and fifteen, Our faces shone with excitement (and a bit of trepidation sweat) as we flew home to Brooklyn Heights, Ohio;



Wee little Gram Hruska joyously welcomed us, all spiffy in a brand new beige dress adorned with ruffles. She looked adorable, and, for once - happy. Dear Gramps shyly offered hugs, not used to us "almost women." We went down to the basement and feasted on Gram's savory Chicken Paprikash.



I was a selfish twit. While Barb clung to Gram, I made new friends and would leave Barb and Gram to each other. I loved Gram but didn't understand the pain and grief she suffered. I wanted to have fun, not hear about how she hated General Eisenhower for causing her to lose her three sons in the war.


I lacked empathy and compassion. Mom had drilled into me that the only reason Gram Hruska loved me was because I looked like her son Sam when we both were babies. I didn't understand, and for years carried memories only of her garden, her paprikash, her sorrow, watching The Lone Ranger, drinking Vernor's Ginger Ale from the bottle . .


I digress. These memories flooding back are from the years we spent in Ohio. My heart aches for the opportunity to truly know Gram, having squandered the only time I had with her as a semi-adult - by being a careless, thoughtless teen.


We lost Gram while preparing to graduate from Anaheim High School in California. We were not invited to her funeral. Dad and Mom told me years later that our aunt and uncle had sent them five-hundred dollars to not contest Gram's will. In the agony of bankruptcy, they exchanged the money for our memories. We received no photographs, nothing but aching hearts.


My sister is extremely sensitive, and I was horribly insensitive. That special time with Gram Hruska was wasted on callow youth. Barb clung to her and I ran from emotions spilling into the Chicken Paprikash. I knew Gram had prepared that wonderful dish just for me - and I feared emotionalism. Gram lost her three sons to WWII, and lost us after our daddy died and Mom remarried Barb's godfather and we moved to San Diego, California.


I wrote a memoir of her, entitled "Paprikash Dreams" - reveling in sweet but sadly forgettable times. We almost lived with Gram, and being young and yes - stupid, took what God had given me in Gram for granted. I couldn't even write letters to her beyond "Hi Gram. How is the weather? It is warm here. I love you."


As for Gram Patterson, who treated us to the vacation of our lifetime - I cannot even recall the week we spent with her. But Gram Patterson moved to California to be with us. Again, I was full of self. Special memories of playing cards with her in her tiny kitchen, while the incredible aromas of her sweet and sour stuffed cabbage rolls prompted drools on the cards . . .


But that is reserved for memories now. Barb and I are all that is left of our family, as far as we know. A terrible aloneness . . .


Gram Hruska - precious little pirate with her garden tan and her gold tooth centered right in the heart of her infrequent smile. How I wish I had been the clinging granddaughter, absorbing all her memories and dreams.



As sis Barb and I prepared for graduation, we learned Gram Hruska had broken her hip and fell in her beloved garden. An observant neighbor crammed Gram into her little car, taking her to the hospital. Gram screamed all the drive. She feared doctors. Convinced that if she went to a hospital she would die. Two weeks after her fall, she died of pneumonia contracted in the hospital.


I recall giggling with her because she had no lap, her full bosom resting there. She told me "Judit - one day you too . . ." I see her every time I look at her reflected image in my mirror - the sad baggy eyes, the no longer cute button nose, the lines deepening smiles to frowns. And yes - no lap for the grandchildren I never had, being sadly barren. I have her forehead furrows, the sense of loss and frivolous youth . . . I miss her so very much.
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This article has been read 1097 times
Member Comments
Member
Date
C D Swanson 
08/06/15
Very emotionally charged story...my heart ached reading this, and yet I smiled at the beautiful spirit of your grandmother. She sounded like a special special lady.

I'm sure she knew you loved her. Unfortunately, when we're young...sometimes we have a tendency to reflect on the "here and now" of self. Don't be hard on yourself, she knows you loved her, and you'll see her again where she'll tell you so in person, this time you get to spend eternity together.

God bless~
Noel Mitaxa 
08/08/15
Thank you for opening your heart to share memories that echo many of our own regrettable attitudes of adolescence, and trying to be the central points of the whole universe. Great title too.
Deborah Engle 
08/08/15
I go through similar thoughts, and have to remind myself that as children, we can only function as immature, undeveloped children. If that doesn't work well, it is the adults who need to make adjustments.

I also believe many others are going through the same thing. Realizing this would make the journey so much easier to tolerate. Your story will help others to face these unresolved issues from the past.
Verna Cole Mitchell 
08/08/15
I enjoyed reading your memories. I, too, have things about my own childhood I'd like a "do-over" for.
Shann Hall-LochmannVanBennekom 
08/09/15
This is a real tear jerks. My heart ached for the young MC. Oh, if we could only learn those lessons before it's too late. I still mourn not asking my family more questions, writing every memory down, and the times when life seemed complex at the time, but in reality, was quite simple.

I stumbled a bit over this sentence:
We lost Gram while preparing to graduate from Anaheim High School in California.
It sounds like Gram was preparing for graduation. Also, although I'm sure there was a reason, I did wonder how the sisters graduated at the same time, even though they were a year apart.

I know I'm nitpicking, but sometimes tweaking little things can elevate a story greatly. I like your take on the topic, and I appreciate your wisdom. This piece definitely touched my heart and reminded dedicated me not to wait until it's too late.
Zacharia Fox
08/09/15
dksjfkl;asjfa;ljsjfkajsdlfkj!!!!!!!!!! okay!!!!! Why isn't this titled "Please Read With Tissues In Hand". Wow! How emotional! Great job with this! How true is this!!!!! Some of the strongest regrets we'll know are over the things we take for granted.
Amy Gaudette 
08/10/15
Written well, exposing the heart so we could all see what the MC went through.
Danielle King 
08/10/15
I agree that youth is wasted on the young. If only we could turn back the clock. This is an emotional piece written from the heart and one that many of us can identify with. I like to read this kind of entry.