Life. Death. And all that gray matter in between

My grandmother passed away last week, her name was Anna, she was 88 years old. Her husband Michael, my grandfather, passed away 10 years ago and I know that every single day of those 10 years, she wished she could be with him again. They were the definition of "til death do us part". Good times and bad times, they had seen it all. Together. They fled from the war, worked in factories, dreamed of a better life, moved to countries where they didn't speak one word of the native language just to keep that dream alive. Eventually, my grandfather died from lung cancer, my grandmother stood by him through every torturous moment.

This is Anna and Michael, when they had fled to Germany for a short time before ultimately making their way to Brazil (and later finally coming to America). I like to think that this is the way my grandparents are sitting right now. Together again at last:




These are their great-grandchildren, my nephews, Zenon and Krystian.




They are sweeter than candy and I find myself wishing I could stop time, just because it goes so fast. The church grounds where the funeral services were held, also house the preschool that I attended at the ripe age of 3 or 4, however old you are when you go there. I took a stroll with my nephews to show them where their Teta (aunt) went to school. The room itself has not changed one bit in 30 years. There are still the same yellow and red hooks on the wall where the kids hang their coats. The room even smells the same, and the chairs – well they would easily be considered 'vintage' or 'antiques' (possibly even 'relics' by this point). I had a boyfriend in preschool - I was on top of my game back then, I'm not sure what happened since. I distinctly remember telling my teacher that we had to sit next to one another. She smiled and said ok. I mean, how do you argue with a 3 year old on such a serious subject?




This is Abby. Abby is a cocker spaniel that thinks she is a magician. Notice how she is able to make the ball levitate under her nose. I had already had a few glasses of wine the first time I saw her do this and promptly decided that I should maybe stop drinking. But then she clued me in on how she does it. Relieved, I poured myself another glass. She snores and likes to put her arm around you when she sleeps. And sometimes bears a striking resemblance to Gene Simmons:



All in all, funerals suck. I've been to way too many of them in my relatively short lifetime. But they keep reminding me, just in case I forget, to make the moments…all the moments - even the seemingly insignificant ones - matter before yours gets here.