Grandma Josie was a list maker. At any given moment you could find either a torn out piece of legal pad paper or even an entire notebook on her kitchen table or counter. Usually the kitchen lists were grocery items she would jot down as she ran out of them or maybe reminders to send out birthday or anniversary or even sympathy cards. Some of these lists were tallies from the nightly card games of Pay the Man played at that same table. Some of her lists were just her thinking out crossword puzzle answers or word jumbles written in the margins of the Bergen Record. Grandma didn’t just believe in making lists, she truly was a historian. She would always tell me when the kids would do something funny, “Sara write that down! So many times I said I should write something down and I didn’t and now I lost the memory.” She also had journals of deeper thoughts and chronicles of life moments both of her own and of her extended family’s history. Unlike my grandma however, I am not a list maker. I’ve tried many times in my life to be one. I mostly succeeded in writing grocery lists that were forgotten on the table or to-do lists that I never glanced at again. It didn’t mean that the items weren’t purchased or the tasks didn’t get done, but I just don’t work well with lists. I believe my grandma wrote things down because there was always so much going on in her brain that she had to sort out and put down in some concrete and tangible way, so as to maybe allow some breathing room in her head. And to that extent of a busy mind, Grandma and I are so alike. Maybe it’s having as many children as we had, after all it is true what they say that once you have children a piece of your heart forever lives outside of your body. I imagine that’s exponentially true and with five (seven in her case) children, my heart is in five different places and subsequently parts of my brain insist on following. It’s why as Grandma got older and her mind would slip, family closest to her would understandably become upset, whereas I felt that it was almost a blessing that her mind started to let go of its encyclopedia’s worth of information. She was still sharp where she needed to be and her wit and sarcasm never dimmed, but at half her age I could see myself at 87 and felt it only natural for my brain to start to have holes where once so much space had been occupied.

I have never felt comfortable with lists because sometimes taking it out of the cosmos of my brain and putting it on paper almost made the task feel foreign to me. Somehow in my crazy thinking when it’s all wrapped up together in the mixing bowl of my brain it feels at home and I know how to manage it better. But as different as we were in that way, I am so my grandmother’s granddaughter. I won’t flatter myself to being as amazing as she was, but I feel like her heart has always made so much sense to me and watching her life has also made sense of parts of my own life. There of course are parts of her that were uniquely hers, but I can hear her voice sometimes when I say something, and feel her in my bones when life feels heavy. One of her favorite exchanges with me always went like this. Her: “Hey, how’s my Sara?” Me: “I’m good Grandma, how are you?” Her: “Good! Aren’t we such good liars?” And I knew what she meant. It’s not that we weren’t “good”, but there was always something weighing heavy on us. It’s the blessing and the curse of the traveling heart and the cosmic brain with entire galaxies swirling endlessly in every direction. I hesitate to speak for her but I think that my grandma, who watched the news daily and raised a huge family struggled with the human condition. Not that she lost sight of the larger picture but that it is often times just so exhausting and seemingly ridiculous. She believed in a better thereafter and didn’t quite see the point of all this nonsense we have to go through before getting there. Don’t get me wrong, she loved life and loved fiercely, but it was that love that sometimes makes life so exhausting. In her 87 years here she created a legacy that was supported by humor, intelligence, understanding, and of course an endless love for her family. It’s so hard to make a list of who my grandma was and not leave out so many important things. However losing her here I felt I needed to try….

 Grandma Josie’s favorite joke was how everyone kept growing taller than she but we all knew what amazing power was in that little woman. She was a force. She had an exponential love that grew with her growing family. It was displayed in her marriage to her Tom and it just trickled down to everyone and everything that had the privilege to come across her. Every new member added whether by marriage, or because they were friends of the family were welcomed at her table. Even the stray cats in town knew that 25 Alden St. was the place they could go for kindness and sustenance. She always had an ear to listen and we all knew it was one not of judgement but of careful understanding. Grandma Josie knew the importance of family. Of the stories and memories that that shared bond created and she made sure to keep journals of them. Nothing escaped her. She was always up on the latest news stories and certainly had her own opinions of them. And no one could eye roll like Josephine. She didn’t hold back her displeasure when she didn’t agree with something and to her credit you always knew where you stood with her. It’s probably a good thing that the Giants’ coach never heard how she felt. And don’t tell Judge Judy but she had fallen out of Josie’s good graces. However, Alex Trebek was forever her favorite and we all knew that.

Grandma created a home base for her family. Travelers could always come back “home” and know that there would be a meal ready for them, a game of cards, a good game on the tv, a warm pair of slippers and an Old Fashioned. She was the glue that held this huge family together whether it was through the marathon games of Pay the Man or keeping our traditions alive with her great grandchildren making pierogi. She was the youngest sister and perhaps that role allowed her a unique vantage point as an observer of many other strong and nurturing female figures. She often spoke fondly of her mother and how she was just a joyful woman. Her smile was echoed in Josie’s and could especially be seen all the way to her blue eyes whenever in the presence of her beloved grandchildren.

She raised her children in the church and could be found belting out “How Great Thou Art” with a fervor that you just KNEW she felt deep in her bones. She used the example of Christ’s love every day that she worked at Felician School with the special needs children. Even, watching some of them in her home. It didn’t matter who you were, she knew how to love you and make you feel like one of her own.

After grandma passed, my mother found a list tucked away in her room that she had made about herself sometime after my grandfather died. It was as follows:

I Was and Am

Daughter

Sister and sister-in-law

Wife

Mother

Grandmother

Great Grandmother

Godmother

Godchild

Daughter-in-law

Mother-in-law

Niece

Aunt

Friend

Neighbor

Girl Scout

Student-graduate-alumni

Cousin

Secretary

Salesperson

Teacher’s Assistant

Widow (ugh)

            If I were ever to try to add to this list it would go on forever. My grandma was all of the things that she listed but she could never truly know just how much more she was to us all. Small in stature as she was she has left giant shoes to fill and we are all richer for having been blessed with her in our lives.