Okay, last night I wrote about my Grandmother Irena and when I remembered all I was writing about I cried like a baby (I was home alone because Robert went to a battle recreation and came home late night), and they were bad tears, tears full of grief that cannot be driven away because it's too late. Or maybe it isn't? Maybe there is some way of putting my mind and heart at rest, by meditation or something? If you have any ideas please share with me, anything that comes to your mind.
(Kendra, thank you for your sweet comment to my last post! *^o^*)
Today it's a Grandfather's Day, so here are my memories about my Grandfather Zygmunt, Irena's husband.
I don't remember him too well, because he died of a heart attack when I was five years old. (I was at my Grandparents' that night and I remember many strangers in the apartment, neighbours sitting in the living room and crying, then my parents came to take me home and my mom was putting a pair of red tights on my tiny legs and I was telling her about the fairy tale I watched that evening on tv...).
Anyway, I was told that when my Grandfather found out that the girl was born, he said 'Daughter, phew...'. But then when he first saw me he wouldn't let me go of his arms! ^^ Ha always invented games for me, or made paper masks and chased me around the flat. And he always had something special for me: a box full of sugar cubes. *^v^*
Well, I know that it may not sound too exciting but when I was a child there wasn't much choice of sweets in shops, and if you even bought a bar of chocolate it was something called 'product chocolate-like' and tasted like old fat paper box... So, the sugar in cubes was something like a code or a ritual between him and me. Even today, I never take sugar in my tea or coffee, but I love to put a sugar cube in my mouth and taste it as it slowly dissolves. ^^
When he died and wasn't around anymore, I didn't know at first what happened to him, well, I was 5 at that time. I remember the day when it finally came to me (I was still about 5 or 6) - I was watching tv and I saw the programme we watched together with my Granddad. I saw a journalist whom we called by our own invented name, so I called 'Granddad, look, it's Mr. X on tv!'. Then I turned around towards the sofa and noticed that Grandfather wasn't there and didn't answer me as usually he did. I remember what I thought at that time: I thought that Granddad was not among us anymore, that he left and wouldn't be coming back. But it wasn't a sad thought, it was just a child's reasoning, perfectly logical. Of course I missed him a lot, but I just realised he was gone and I thought that was the way it should be.
And these are the stories about my beloved Grandparents.
(I didn't write anything about my mother's parents because I didn't really have any close relationships with them - they were simple people who had their lives full of hard work in the field and numerous other grandchildren apart from me, and I think they didn't feel the need to develop any tight bonds with the gang of children coming and going through their house.)
And tomorrow - pictures of my latest knitting FOs! *^v^*