Requiescat in pacem, Babcia.

Genowefa Michniewicz (my Grandmother) passed away last night, unexpectedly. It's hard to think about, especially being so far away. I can't be with my family, except through this contraption, and all I have with which to express my grief and share in theirs is these words, which are wholly inadequate. My Babcia was a complex person, surviving the war and marrying my Dziadek, who loved her without reserve or qualification. She was boisterous and stylish, demanding and generous, always at the center of everything in my family. Now the Main House is empty, both my Mother's parents are gone, and I may never walk through those doors again. I will never hear her voice, or feel her weight on my arm, or smell that strange blend of perfumes... My grief washes over me in waves, I am at the mercy of however I feel, which is too complex to sort out, and all by myself. I wish more than anything that there wasn't an ocean between my family and me right now, I want to be there when she's laid next to my Dziadek at Our Lady of Czestochowa. My Babcia's grief after Dziadek died never dulled, she never accepted his death, and so now, almost exactly three years later, I want to believe they are together again, that is a comfort to me.

Before I left to come here, my Momma gave me Babcia's engagement ring, which I had remembered being on my Mother's hand for most of my life. Since I was thirteen, I have also been wearing my Dziadek's ring, which has his name and the date that they were married engraved on the inside. These are the only rings I wear, and now more than ever I feel the weight of what these symbols represent. They rest together on my finger, denoting my commitment to their memory and to my family, the continuity of love between my Grandparents, my Mother and me. Maybe there is no immortality but love--but love there is, and love there always will be.

Ja kocham cie, Babcia, Dziadek. Pogoda jest do kitu, ale ja jestem wasz wnuczka, na zawsze.