Grandpa Stayanoff

As I've matured, mortality has started to have more depth of meaning. Each time someone I know dies, it cements the realization that life does have an end and we cannot know the day nor the hour of its arrival. I have found myself much more aware of the need to be ready for the true purpose of my life, to reach heaven. At each discovery of death, I have this intense and anxious moment of prayer toward heaven, asking that the dearly departed will reach God as quickly as possible.

My Grandpa died last week and while I know that death can be the most beautiful and most important part of our existence, it doesn't take away the need to mourn the death of someone in my life. Grief is hard to understand and for me personally, it has come in waves. I also want to celebrate and remember the life of the person, to verify my own experience with him, process the life of my grandpa and put his life in the context of my own.

As a granddaughter, I think I have to good fortune to see the best parts of my grandpa; a generation removed, I have space to see how his life impacted mine through my mom. I am blessed that he passed on some of these things.


Heritage. My grandpa was a first generation American. His parents came over from Macedonia and he didn't speak any English until he went to school and was forced to pick it up. Every school project I had about family history, I interviewed my Grandpa about his, my family history. I feel lucky that my history is so intriguing and that I had the opportunity to discuss it with him many times. I believe that a lot of my grandpa's other qualities and characteristics came from this upbringing that is so different from his future generations. He told me that he started the school year with two white shirts, two white pairs of socks and two pairs of jeans and by the end of the year they were too short, too tight and brownish instead of white. I also remember him talking about how he was so excited when he would go to a friend's house and have hamburgers with cheese slices because at home, on a self-sufficient farm, they had "farm to table" style meals of for example, rabbit stew that his mom would work on and cook all day - this kind of meal was foreign to him!

Garlic. Grandpa loved it and so do I. I don't think there's a Stayanoff that doesn't use garlic in the kitchen and usually, the more, the better. Grandpa was always, in my estimation, a great cook and food was important to any gathering. Eating a meal together happened often at his home and I have lots of memories of his old home with the blue carpet and gas stove and him cooking over the stove and leaning on the island to chat. He had the best homemade vinaigrette dressing I have ever tasted. Naturally, there was garlic in the dressing too. Usually, grandpa had some older style music playing as well. Lest I leave it out, I learned how to make the "world famous slug-o-burgers" from Grandpa as well.

Frugality. Again, I don't think there's a Stayanoff that isn't frugal nor one that keeps anything extra in the house. I am incredibly grateful to my Grandpa for passing down his frugality to my mother so I in turn could learn good spending habits. As a financial advisor, I see the true value in living below your means and not only in order to save for retirement, but also to buy what really has meaning and value to you. It's also thanks to Grandpa that I had some savings bonds to use for my first year of college.

Stubbornness. We all have faults, but some faults can also be a strength. Grandpa stuck to his guns and I like to think I do to, and I have a strong inclination I get this trait from my grandpa through my mom.

Faith. While my grandpa and I never talked a lot about faith, I always knew him to faithfully attend mass each Sunday. I am grateful that he converted to Catholicism and that I was raised Catholic and that we were able to share mass together from time to time. There are two times in my life when I remember my Grandpa talked 'passionately' (in his own way) about his faith. During one of my school interviews with him, he mentioned that the only thing that really matters in this life is faith in God. At another instance, he talked to me about really truly "buying in" to the Catholic faith and all it teaches, just as he had. Finally, soon before his death he welcomed a priest to his home for his last sacraments, confession and Eucharist. This, this is exactly what I pray wholeheartedly for, that all who are dear to me, truly discover why it is we are here on Earth and that we may all be reunited one day together in Heaven.

The last time I saw my Grandpa he was in great spirits, he was sweet and kind and I was able to give him one last smooch on his cheek. As I walked away, I looked back to wave goodbye with his daughter in front of me and my daughter in my arms he waved a sweet goodbye wave with a sweet smile that I will remember forever.

Thank you, Grandpa, for being in my life and shaping many parts of who I am.

Morning: A Reflection

There's quiet in my house and the smell of recently roasted coffee always greets me in the kitchen. The scent immediately conjures the image of my husband going about his routine in a completely still home, rushing, before slipping out the door without anyone even knowing. There's only a few moments before the little one awakes. I hear her little voice..."mommy, mommy, mommy".  Those first few moments when I go to get her are my favorite. She smells just a certain way and she feels warm as she snuggles her head into the crevice of my neck. Her hair is a wild mess of tangles and always in her eyes, so she rubs them fiercely. Even the way she tilts her head in the morning and looks up at me with a half sleepy grin is perfection. All too soon the precious moment slips away and time presses in on us. There will always be tomorrow to try and capture it once again.

Heavy

For most of my adult life I have moved, changed jobs, changed countries, changed languages, changed life situations, changed my name, etc. I'm not sure I've had 'normalcy' since I moved to college. Finally, I've realized that all of life is change. I've realized that when life is at its most difficult its because you are being forced out of your comfort zone and into a change that you can either grow from or you can step back from in fear. I realize it's taken me longer than it should have to come to these conclusions. 

After six months of life's newest change in my life has passed, I have been forcing myself to pause and reflect on the result of this latest change. 

I find what I am struggling with most at this particular path in my life is how hard to push myself - I find myself asking, how much growth is really happening here or how much of this is pushing just to push? That is, to keep up with the status quo. I feel this constant fight between two interior voices in my head. One says I should be working tirelessly to be everything, to do everything. The other tells me it's okay to take a break, it's ok to enjoy life. It's okay if you're not perfect. 

I think the second is correct. I think I feel a pressure to be everything someone else says I should be, in a constant game of comparisons with every person I come in contact with. What I want for my life is to be uniquely me, flaws and all, changes and constant growth, but in my own time and manner. Along the same lines, I find that I am way to hard on myself. My inner voice is almost cruel with ongoing censures as to how I could be better or how I do not "do" enough. It's not always about the doing its about the "being." I am "worthy" just because I am. 

I'm not sure any of this makes sense to anyone other than myself, but I'm sending it out there into the great big void.