Happy Birthday, Grandma Kima. I miss you still
Grandma Kima was born on New Years Day. So, a lot of times, we'd celebrate New Years Eve at home and go to celebrate her birthday at her apartment the very next day. To me, a visit to this great apartment full of books, with the view of the vast, frozen Gulf of Finland outside the window, getting to taste Grandma Kima's cooking was always a treat.
I remember making handmade cards and writing "Баба Кима - Поздравляю тебя с Новым Годом и С Днём Рождения" (Granny Kima - have Happy New Year and Happy Birthday), carefully trying to get all the letters and spellings just right (she was a proofreader, after all). And I remember thinking that it was so cool that she got two holidays on one day.
Even when we came to America, and we could no longer just walk a few blocks and visit her apartment, New Years Eve always made me think of Grandma Kima.
When Grandma Kima died, I remember thinking that New Years Day would be... Not tainted, exactly. But that there would be a long, sad shadow hanging over it now.
I've been going through a lot of emotions over the past few days. If there is one thing the past six months have driven home, it's how important love is, how sustaining and reinforcing it can be. How important it is to have people who love and care for you by your side when things look bleak. Last New Years Eve, I was too bed-ridden with Twitter Flu to grieve, but now...
At the same time, I remembered the good times. Walking along the Gulf of Finland. Reading her books. Watching TV on her couch. Drinking tea in her kitchen as she fussed over a stove. Sharing my first attempts at writing. Watching the sunset through her living room window.
The last time I was in Russia, we went to her apartment - just like the old days - and annanov sang her a song. I recently came across the video of it while going through some files.
I thought that it would be a fitting way to honor her on this sad, happy day.
And now... I'm going to spend the rest of the day doing what I think Grandma Kima would want me to do. Go out there. Do something I enjoy. And enjoy this sunny weather we're having today.
С Новым Годом и С Днём Рождения, Бабушка Кима.
I miss you still
I remember making handmade cards and writing "Баба Кима - Поздравляю тебя с Новым Годом и С Днём Рождения" (Granny Kima - have Happy New Year and Happy Birthday), carefully trying to get all the letters and spellings just right (she was a proofreader, after all). And I remember thinking that it was so cool that she got two holidays on one day.
Even when we came to America, and we could no longer just walk a few blocks and visit her apartment, New Years Eve always made me think of Grandma Kima.
When Grandma Kima died, I remember thinking that New Years Day would be... Not tainted, exactly. But that there would be a long, sad shadow hanging over it now.
I've been going through a lot of emotions over the past few days. If there is one thing the past six months have driven home, it's how important love is, how sustaining and reinforcing it can be. How important it is to have people who love and care for you by your side when things look bleak. Last New Years Eve, I was too bed-ridden with Twitter Flu to grieve, but now...
At the same time, I remembered the good times. Walking along the Gulf of Finland. Reading her books. Watching TV on her couch. Drinking tea in her kitchen as she fussed over a stove. Sharing my first attempts at writing. Watching the sunset through her living room window.
The last time I was in Russia, we went to her apartment - just like the old days - and annanov sang her a song. I recently came across the video of it while going through some files.
I thought that it would be a fitting way to honor her on this sad, happy day.
Click to viewAnd now... I'm going to spend the rest of the day doing what I think Grandma Kima would want me to do. Go out there. Do something I enjoy. And enjoy this sunny weather we're having today.
С Новым Годом и С Днём Рождения, Бабушка Кима.
I miss you still