Grandmothers
Grandmothers
My Grandma Katko was a small stature woman with a very big personality. She had curly salt-and-pepper hair. Her skin was so pale she would sunburn easily. Every time a crumb fell on the table she was getting up to clean it. Over her deep brown eyes she wore glasses. Her dresses were frock style and she only wore fancy dresses to church. She was a master baker. She made the best Hungarian cookies. And most of all she was mine.
My memories of her are fond and beautiful. When I was a baby, she was the one who babysat me. I remember one summer I had a summer job, and she took care of me while the rest of my family went to the beach. I used to spend a lot of time visiting and eating at her house. I spent so much time at her house she would call me something in Hungarian that meant little squirrel.
My favorite memory of my grandmother was how she managed to keep the peace during Christmas and Thanksgiving in her house. Because she was a loving person my grandma hated it when anyone raised their voice in an argument. Somehow she always managed to play the role of peacemaker by breaking up arguments with words instead of with physical force. She hated to sit still so she always had to be doing something.
The only time she sat still and rested was on summer nights. On those nights we sat in chairs and just talked. She loved the quiet most of the time. However, there were times when she and Grandpa Katko argued back and forth in Hungarian. But I guess when you been married for fifty-eight years arguments are bound to happen.
She had tremendous love for her two sons. However, my dad Edward and my Uncle Steve didn’t always show proper respect for their mother. Her death is hard to explain.
Her death was the hardest on me out of the whole family. With her death I’ve felt a void in my life. Just days before her death she and I had fought. When she died I always wished, I could have another chance to make things right. It has been twelve years now since her death. Sometimes I wonder if I was the cause of her death. There have been a lot of what ifs in my life. I was eighteen when she died and I was about to graduate high school. The void in my life still hasn’t been filled.
I don’t know what else to say about Mrs. Margaret Katko.
A poem of remembrance:
I loved you with all my heart. I know you always were with me no matter what I undertook. I remember your wonderful smile, your laugh and the way you smelled. Grandma, you helped me become what I am now. Without you I would have been a very lonely child. Yes I know I was a difficult child. When you were alive I loved you always. I now know I have to let you go.
Now that I’ve told about my Grandma Katko, let me tell you about The Void I feel inside. The void is this spot within my heart that was left open when she died. At times I still feel the weight of her death. I can’t say I was her favorite grandchild because she loved all three of us equally. The void is deeper than any other void in my life. The only other death that affected me as hard was the death of my great-grandmother Edith Moneypenny. How to explain how I really feel is hard for me but here it goes.
It took me many years to begin to feel whole again; yet at the same time I am not completely whole. In the years since her death I’ve learned she is just asleep and is not conscione of anything. Even so sometimes the anniversary of her death hits me hard. Shortly after her death at the age eighteen, I was diagnosed with depression, a mental disorder.
Even with the depression I somehow cope. But I don’t cope well some days and those are the days the void is the strongest within me. As time passes though I am beginning to cope with her death. I am slowly filling the void with a new life.
A prayer of love:
You don’t know how much I miss you. I know you’ll never know how much I miss you. Grandma, someday I know I will see you again. Please know I love you.
Love your grandchild,
April Cassandra Katko
A poem dedicated to all grandmothers:
Grandmothers are wonderfully sweet and kind. Grandmothers are one of a kind. Each one has her own skill. Grandmothers are patient. Each one has her own personality. Grandmothers are caregivers. Some grandmothers are spoilers of their grandchildren with love, toys, and kisses. All grandchildren should honor their grandmothers. Roses are red. Violets are blue. Sugar is sweet and I miss you. Roses are red. Violets are blue. Sugar is sweet and I loved you. . With this poem I close the void in my heart.
My grandma Katko was one of a kind. I loved hear dearly. I will forever miss her. I April Cassandra Katko, vow to honor and respect my living Grandma Romeo. With that thought in mind a small note for her.
Dear Grandma Romeo,
Always remember no matter what you’ll be my grandmother. It doesn’t matter what religion I practice because I will always love you. You keep me on the up and up. You were always there for me. Your favorite nickname for me was “precious baby”. Another nickname was “pumpkin”.
Love your grandchild,
April Cassandra Katko
Grandmas are the essence of every child’s young life. When you scraps a knee they are there to help. When you are sad they make you happy. Honor your grandma today.
Last edited by cassie30 : 07-04-2007 at 07:51 PM.
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