A Love Story

When I started this blog, I hoped to update once a month. January came and went, and I did quite a bit of writing, but nothing that’s quite ready to post yet. I was also a little busy in January because both of my (paternal) grandparents died. I wasn’t very close to them, and I have struggled with if and how and what I do to process their passing. I don’t have an ache at the apex of my heart or a stone in the pit of my stomach, the way I have with others’ deaths. It was an experience that was trying and eye-opening in ways I couldn’t have anticipated. What I have found is that although I don’t need to cry or rage or ask questions with no answers, I do need to talk. And so it is I would like to share their story.

I cannot promise that this story is an honest account of how things actually happened. My dad is my primary information source, and he has this way of gently molding the truth so that the stories he tells are neat little packages with perfectly tied bows on top. This is rarely how stories work in real life- they meander, they have rough spots, sometimes things get a little ugly… but this neat little package of a story is the one I have been told, and in keeping with that sentiment I will omit the rough spots that I do know. Rather than fact, I would consider this to be family folklore. The story goes like this…

My great-grandparents were all immigrants- my grandmother’s side from Slovakia, my grandfather’s side from Greece. As best we can tell, my grandparents first met at the Russian Orthodox Church in Auburn, NY. (The nearest Greek Orthodox church was over 20 miles away, and to travel there weekly would have been a hardship for my grandfather’s family, although they did go there for special holidays.) My grandparents were in the same graduating class in high school, even though my grandpa was two years older than my grandmother. (The story goes that his mother had kept him at home until he was seven so that she would have someone at home with whom to keep company and speak Greek.) My grandpa’s family owned a restaurant, and he worked the soda/sandwich counter there when he was old enough. I remember him telling me once that when grandma would come visit him while he was working, he would always put extra olives on her sandwich.

World War II came and my grandfather, a communications specialist in the Air Force, proposed to my grandmother before he left. She told him “come back from the war alive, then we’ll talk.” (Actually, the way grandpa told this story, she told him, “Go fly a kite!”) After being stationed in Northern Africa and Southern Italy, my grandpa arrived home safely. (There is some shadow of a story in here about grandpa having the opportunity to tour with a big band (he played clarinet and saxophone), but grandma said “it’s me or the music,” and he chose her.) They married in Auburn on June 1, 1946.

The next 66 years I don’t know much about. I know they moved a few times and then settled in Columbus. I know they had two children-my aunt and my dad. I know my grandma saved every greeting card my grandpa gave her, because we still have them- vintage cards featuring ladies with cinched waists, wearing gloves and pearls. Inside every one is my grandpa’s scrawl, with Xs and Os and strings of pet names. (If I can unearth them again I might scan and post a couple, they really are darling.) I know they retired and traveled and grew old together.

Grandpa died on a Friday. By Sunday it was clear that my grandmother was not going to live much longer. She truly wouldn’t live without him. On Tuesday we had my grandfather’s funeral at the Greek Orthodox Church where my grandparents had been members for many years. At the end of the funeral, two representatives from the military came and folded up the flag on top of the casket. My aunt received the flag on behalf of her mother. She took the flag to my grandmother and placed it in her arms, and grandma died a few hours later. Her funeral was also at the Greek Orthodox Church, and then my grandparents were flown together back up to Auburn to be buried.

Before the burial was a short service at the Russian Orthodox Church in Auburn- the church where they first met, the church where the funerals of their parents and siblings were held. They were buried side by side in the cemetery where much of the rest of their families are buried. As was said many times at the church, May Their Memories Be Eternal.