When I was a child, I was a typical little girl in many ways. I always had this feeling though, that I belonged to two realms. Sometimes they complemented each other and other times they were at odds. Both these places made me the woman I am now. I am grateful for both sides of that cultural and geographical coin. My parents’ differing backgrounds have lent some diversity to my life, and I love so much about them both. In difficulty and trials, in celebration and triumph, there is always some snippet of wisdom from one or both sides that applies and helps me to see things clearer. I know that I have been blessed with a rich family history.

Windows to the Past

I am still sorting through papers and pictures months after Mama left us. It seems that each box takes me down another rabbit hole and I end up spending hours lingering over a note or a card, a photo, or some keepsake. I get frustrated at times, thinking this shouldn’t be taking so long. I then think to myself, maybe it should. How long should it take to peruse the details of a lifetime? How long should I stay and look, remember, and postulate over items that she saved because they were obviously of importance to her? I look for clues and nuances to help me know more about this amazing woman who raised me.

Days of Wine and Roses

I remember many times sitting with Babcia as she pored over photographs from her past. She would tell me the stories behind the pictures… who the people in the photos with her were and what they meant to her. She’d tell me a funny story about what had happened when the pictures were taken. Her eyes would light up with each story and she would laugh out loud sometimes. I knew that she treasured these memories. No matter how many times we sat and looked through her albums, I never tired of these stories. I looked forward to them. The pictures seemed to take her to another time and place where she was happy and alive, and I was swept away with her every single time.

My mama was in many weddings as a young lady. Being from a large Catholic family, a wedding was no small affair. They were gatherings of family and friends, with lavish costumes, rich traditions, food and drink in excess, and music and dancing. As a young girl I was swept away by the romanticism of it all. There were pictures of my mama in beautiful dresses with her hair done, stories of the young man who was her date in the photos, stories about the bride and groom. This was all part of her life before my father and long before I was born, and I thrilled to every sentence that spilled from her mouth as she spoke.

Later Years

Her life in later years would be very different. After leaving her family in Chicago for love and starting a family in West Virginia, there would be no more extravagant parties. We didn’t have a lot growing up. Babcia never lost that exuberance for life and celebrating though. She brought a little of that excitement to everything she did, even in leaner times. It was one of the things people loved about her. As a little girl, I didn’t need Disney princesses, my mama was a princess to me. I remember looking at her in the pictures and thinking how beautiful she was; her smile was effervescent. As an adult I know (of course) that life wasn’t all parties and that she endured hardship too. As the young girl who grew up thinking that was a foreign lifestyle that was just out of reach, her stories were a promise that there was more life out there to find and that the world was big enough that I might create stories of my own one day.

Beautiful Dreamer

Babcia brought magic into all the lives of everyone around her. Her stories and photos are a reminder of that. This spirited dreamer with her huge heart was unstoppable, unpredictable, and unmoved by any obstacle that crossed her path. She was a forceful beauty and a loving soul who held us together through chaos with laughter and a mother’s touch. Before she was our adored matriarch though, she was a young girl with a sparkle in her eye, on the brink of a lifetime before her. She drank it all in, she laughed, and she lived. As should we all.