Yesterday, the last day of Passover, was my Grandma’s yahrzeit , the anniversary of her death on the Hebrew calendar. She died 4 years ago, and I still miss her. We lived in Baltimore and she lived in Brooklyn NY, so as a kid I only got to see her 4 or 5 times a year, but I spoke to her at least once a week. Once I was engaged to Mrs. KVS (who lived a few blocks away from Grandma, at the time) and traveling to NY on a weekly basis, I got to see her more often.
She had a hard life - my grandfather died as a young man, and my Grandma had to work and raise 3 kids by herself. She never remarried. I knew her as a fun, generous person who was the true matriarch of the family. She fiercely loved New York, and could never understand why my mother moved to Baltimore after she was married. Grandma was very opinionated, and a bit of a hypochodriac, and I don’t think she was thrilled that I chose to become observant, but she respected it. ;j I could debate politics and religion with her for hours. She made the best scrambled eggs, and insisted on making fresh squeezed orange juice whenever I stayed with her.
Grandma was staying in Baltimore when my second child was born, and I’ll never forget the hug she gave me when I finally got home from the hospital.
She was pretty active and travelled quite a bit, and never really slowed down until about two years before her death. Because of family politics, she ended up leaving her beloved NY and spending her last two years or so in a nursing home in Philadelphia. She died at the age of 94.
God, how I miss her. I only wish my kids would have had more of a chance to know her. 