My grandmother died on Saturday, April 7th at age 91. I received the news from my dear cousin Monika, as she recounted that Bunia (our grandmother) passed away peacefully just one hour after she and Bartek (her brother, my cousin) went to visit her. She said: "It was as if she was waiting to say goodbye." And then she reflected, "Now she is finally at peace, together again with her three sons and her husband." My grandmother outlived them all.
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| Halina Maksalon, "Bronisławów" Chojnów, 1941 |
Years later my grandmother met a handsome Colonel, they married and had three boys. My father was the oldest. His younger brother, Marek, only lived to be seven years old. He hit his head playing at kindergarden. At first there appeared to be no mark, but after some time they realized that it had caused a cerebral contusion: bruising inside of the brain tissue. My father had one more brother, Piotrek: he was the father of my cousins Bartek and Monika. Both my father and his brother Piotrek died in their 48th year of life... my father of cancer, and my uncle of a fatal car accident. Despite the tragedy of losing all three of her sons, my grandmother always managed to keep a smile on her face. She approached each day with incredible energy. And she definitely lived a very full life... even if she lived a good deal of it in her imagination as she grew older. Initially, my cousins did not have the heart to tell my grandmother that her youngest son passed away... and so they told her he moved to live with me in Canada. So, each time she and I spoke she would tell me how happy she was that Piotrek was with us and that he had always dreamed of building a life in Canada. My grandmother never cared much for the superficial things in life. She always took each day by storm. We would often joke that she was could stop a truck with her eyes: as she would navigate the streets of Warsaw jay-walking at every opportunity never once worried... and somehow cars and buses would always stop for her. She spoke several languages, but her favourite was always French... and she would often switch between French and Polish when speaking with me (not realizing that her French was far superior to mine!!!). Not to mention she always corrected my grammar in Polish whenever I would write her letters... she always had something to teach.
My grandmother loved life... and she loved her children. She was strong and adventurous. As she got older her imagination and reality melted into each other and she often did not discern between the two; though she spoke about her memories and experiences with such zest that you were certain it must all be true, and perhaps it was. As I reflect on how easily she drifted into her self-created reality, I realize that it was an amazing tool that gave her the courage to keep moving forward, despite the pain in her heart, with a smile on her face... for her, there was no other way.
I found it particularly beautiful that she passed away on Easter weekend and the start of Passover... something quite symbolic that Passover commemorates the story of Exodus, in which the ancient Israelites were freed from slavery in Egypt. Meanwhile Easter symbolizes a different kind of freedom as it celebrates the resurrection of Jesus Christ. In a way, I suppose my grandmother found her own freedom as she left her earthly body... perhaps indeed to reunite with her children. I am also moved that her funeral was held today... Friday April 13th... as my father was born on the 13th and we have always celebrated the 13th as a lucky day and number.
Babciu,
Abyś miała pokój w swoim sercu, pokój w swoim duchu, i pokój w twoich maźeniach. Miałaś piękne życie ... i wszystko czym jesteśmy to po części ze względu na ciebie. Jesteś naszym dziedzictwem. A teraz jesteśmy kontynuacją. Kochamy ciębie i źegnamy się z tobą z sercem otwartym.
Patrycja, Isabel, Anaïs, Leo
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| My grandmother with my father, c. 1949 |
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| Halina & Antoni Marian Maksalon, c. 1945 |
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| My grandmother & grandfather with me (patrycja), Jastrzębia Góra, Poland, June 15, 1976 |
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| Proud parents with my father, Bohdan Jan Maksalon, June 1948, Poland. Notice the camera around his neck... i come by my passions honestly (my grandfather on my mom's side was also a photographer) |
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| Hiking in the woods... my grandmother with my dad and a friend |
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| Love this photo of my grandma with my dad, Lódź, Poland, 1947 |
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| My grandma with my dad (again), April, Lódź, 1947. Exactly 65 years ago. |
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| notice the kippah i have one exactly like this of my grandfather... must find it!!! |
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| Brothers playing... my dad and his younger brother Marek loved to climb trees. |
