Goodbye Gram..a eulogy to remember

This is from July 11, 2013. Not sure how it got moved to today. I'm working on a new blog entry and must have hit something weird.  I'm writing again and will be back online soon.

Marcella Juszynski Oct. 30, 1922-July 6, 2013

Thank you all for coming to celebrate Marcella’s extraordinary life.  My name is Kim and I am her grand-daughter.  I’ve never written a eulogy before and I have to admit it’s no easy task. How do you sum up 90 years in a matter of minutes?  I’m not sure I know, but I hope I got it right, Gram. 

If all of you get a chance before you leave, please read the articles circling around that share the story of her life and good works and survival against great odds. Her story before I came along is both amazing and inspirational.  But, It’s my story of life with her I’d like to share with all of you today.

I moved into my grandma’s building approximately 11 years ago. She took me in at a time I was going through some heartbreak and needing a change of scenery and a fresh start.  She took me in with open arms and a loving heart.  I have to admit I was never terribly close to my gram during my childhood.  Her husband died when I was only 4 or 5, so I mostly remember her on her own.   The things I do remember:  We called her downtown grandma because she lived closer to downtown than our other grandma.  She was always what most people would call a bit peculiar, eccentric even.  At one time, I swear she had about 20 parakeets livings with her in cages and free flying around her kitchen and back porch.  She used to only wear skirts, never pants but when she began to get older in the colder weather she took to wearing pants under her skirt.  Eventually she got down to just pants and lost the skirts.  I remember a little white dog she had.  I don’t remember it’s name but I remember that she actually washed that little dog’s butt in the sink after it did its business.  I remember the sickly bedridden neighbor a few streets over that she gave food to via a bucket that was lowered out of the window. She loved her plants and her house was filled with them.  Along with a constantly growing and changing array of collectibles scattered from room to room.  

After moving 2 doors down from Gram, I began to spend more and more time with her. Trips to the doctor, to Kmart, to Walgreens, to Aldi, to the Polish bakery and deli on Milwaukee ave.,  to the post office to pick up stamps for the many letters, birthday and Christmas cards I helped her send, to which many of you here today have received.   I remember taking her to the liquor store one time and the clerk asking us if we needed help. She said she wanted whiskey.  What kind, he asked? The biggest and cheapest bottle they had was her response. It helped soothe her throat when she had a cough.  Everytime I drove her somewhere and made her put her seatbelt on, she would look at me and laugh and say “Time to put me in jail.”  She never failed to comment that she didn’t like tomatoes since she had a stroke, that she thought the soup was too expensive at Club Lucky, and she always wanted to know which cost more, my cellphone or my home phone?   

So as the years passed living close to her, I began to realize how uniquely special she was. On warm days, you would often see her and her best friend and roommate Diane sitting on the porch, laughing and talking and feeding the birds.  I’m glad they had each other and know they are together again. She always had a story, she always had the neighborhood news. I would meet new neighbors and when they would learn who my grandma was, they would speak of her with kindness and affection and remind me of her classic catchphrase “don’t ever get old.” I realized truly what a fixture she was in our community.  Everyone knew Marcella. The neighbors down the block who bought her a bottle of B & B  every year for Christmas, Billy and Ronnie at Lincoln Tavern who often commented I had just missed her. She would walk to the corner bar and trade them quarters for dollars. Anna down the block whose porch she would sit on when she needed rest on her walks.  My next door neighbors, Robert and Gary and Lisa who would ask about her every time I saw them.  Rich across the alley who upon hearing the news of her passing texted me “She was a very special woman. The kids will be crushed.” His kids would always yell “Hi Marcella” from the balcony or alley when they saw her. She often talked to me of how fond she was of them.  Officer Uting  who would chat with her often during his patrols and recommended her to be featured in the article written in January.  Alisa and Chloe, the reporter and photographer who spent two full days with her learning her story and taking some wonderful video and pictures. You made her feel like a movie star for a day and I know she so enjoyed you both. Your article and pictures will be treasured forever. Her kind and loving tenants Doug and Jenny who checked on her every day and especially  when  I couldn’t.  They just commented to me the other day that they felt in some ways they were closer to her than their own grandmas. She took them in, they said. I know. She took me in, too. I am so touched by how affected your lives have been by her.  I know for certain she loved you both like her own. So many people with so many stories.

One of the first things I learned about gram is that she had an unwavering faith in God. She took the idea of  “Love Thy Neighbor” to the furthest extent, always reaching out to help those in need, including myself and including the son she loved so much and the family she always thought of.  Dad, for Gram you absolutely hung the moon. She gave her time, her material possessions, her physical labor and her prayers freely and with a glad heart.   Through her, I deepened my understanding of the joy of giving and helping. Marcella was never happier than when she was able to lend a helping hand. This included the $40 weekly installment to Max and I for dinner on Saturday at a restaurant which we always tried to refuse but never succeeded.  She loved Max and his daughter immensely and asked about them every single day over the last few years.  I know for them she helped in her own way to fill a void left empty from losing Max's dear farher and mother in law last year who were like parents to Max.  Bob and Viola, you left them in very capable hands. Marcella was more than happy to welcome them into her family.

Another thing I came to learn in recent years is that Grandma and I were two peas in a pod and would grow to share a very special bond.  In late 2010, I lost my job of 7 years and was diagnosed with cancer two weeks later.  After finally feeling mostly recovered after a very difficult 2011, I then fell and shattered my ankle in early 2012. During these very trying and turbulent adult years, I suffered through financial difficulties, bouts of severe depression and anxiety, and a complete physical and mental coming apart at the seams.  I had a very difficult time because it seemed that no one in my life could understand or relate to the experiences I was having.  Except for Gram. She got me.  Somehow grandma was able to understand my life in ways that no one else could. She never lectured, never judged, and always understood me without my ever needing to explain myself.   She spent a half hour last year climbing up my three flights of stairs just to tell me she missed me when I was unable to walk. We have talked almost every day and every night for the last two years, hundreds of phone conversations often late at night because neither of us could sleep. We’ve had many walks, many talks, and many moments of shared laughter and pain.  I covered your feet, I cut your hair, and I did your laundry with extra fabric softener just how you liked it. We often joked over the last couple years that we were physically “good for nothing.”  But with all our aches and pains, the one thing we were was good for each other. Together we were steadfast companions, two advocates for the broken and misunderstood.  We were special to each other.  I was her person and she was mine.  

Though I am sad and there are moments when I cannot hold back the pain or tears, the part of my heart that belonged to her does not full empty, instead overflows. Gram and I, we had no unresolved moments or feelings. We knew exactly where we stood with each other. Every time I left you gram, I felt 100% complete and confident.  I loved you totally and I know you loved me. I know you were very proud of me and happy with how far I’ve come. Our connection was strong as steel and somehow that connection does not feel broken.  

It’s funny how life works sometimes.  The evening before my grandma passed, Max and I were walking the Wolcott Ave. strip with her like we had together so many times, at least twice a week it seemed..  Grandma used to grab Max’s arm to steady herself, but for some reason this time she grabbed for his hand. I watched them walking hand in hand down the street and was so moved with emotion at this moment of intimacy between the two people that I loved the most that I decided to snap a picture.  I posted it on FB with the caption “Max and my gram. Hot date on Friday night.”  I never thought to take a photo before on our walks, and I’m so glad I did.  It will be a photo I treasure as long as I live. My friend Jeannie told me the next day that it was if grandma was giving Max her blessing, giving him my heart, passed from her hand to his,  to take care of because she knew she would be leaving soon.   I wish she could have lived long enough to eventually see us marry and live happily ever after.

We parted that evening after we saw grandma safely home, cold ginger ale in hand.   I said, “goodnight gram. We will see you tomorrow. Call us if you need anything.” Max simply said “Goodnight, beautiful.” As we walked home from dinner that night around 11 pm, we saw your light on in the living room and I immediately took comfort in the fact that you were  safe at home, just 2 doors away.  I went to bed feeling content.

When I got the call and arrived at your house the next morning just after 7, I was heartbroken to see that your spirit had already left your body. I take comfort in the thought that you may have been on your way to my house for one last walk, one last visit, one last chat.  I’m glad you went peacefully outside on a beautiful morning sitting on the porch you so loved surrounded by the birds you so cared for and cherished.  I’ve been feeding them since you left and I know they miss you as terribly as I do.

I’m not the most religious person, Gram but I have to think that the God you so faithfully believed in knew that Heaven couldn’t really be Heaven without you in it.  I can’t blame him for wanting to call you home.  And I know you are happy and at peace with the family and friends you loved so much. I miss you every minute and I know I’ll see you again.

I’d like to close this tearful tribute with a poem I found I think sums up the way we all must fee

“The moment that you left me, my heart was split in two; one side was filled with memories; the other side died with you. I often lay awake at night when the world is fast asleep; and take a walk down memory lane with tears upon my cheek. Remembering you is easy, I do it everyday; but missing you is a heartache that never goes away. I hold you tightly within my heart and there you will remain; you see life has gone on without you, but will never be the same.

Rest in peace and comfort, gram.  I know I’ll see you again.