This wonderful, most incredible woman in my life is turning 85 this year. I owe her my childhood, the stability which never rocked, a haven for a little girl who was about to embark on a journey far far away from everything she knew. I shed many tears and thought endless thoughts, longing to be near her, near my grandfather. It is the fate of any immigrant, the loss of minutes, days, months, years of closeness to those who you love most. It is almost a year since my dear, wonderful, kind grandfather passed away...
It has almost been a year since the birth of my second son. It has been almost two years since I hugged my grandmother, two years since I kissed her cheeks and laughed for hours over dimmed lights of our dacha kitchen. The older I become, the more I seem to understand her. The more I realise how much she pained for my life, my struggles, how she lived through all the sorrows and the joys, away from the every day of my life. How I wish we had more time together. How I wish I could share my children with her. How I need her, in moments of utter despair. How I wish I could run in and give her a kiss, whenever I want. It is pointless to wish. Perhaps. One ought to choose and live by that choice. But how painful the burden of this choice. It has been almost 20 years since we left Russia. Two thirds of my life I have been gone from the country where I was born, trying to piece together the identity of who I have become.
In just over two weeks I am flying with my children back home. There is an abundance of feelings that go together with this sentence. I havent been able to come to terms with the loss of my grandfather. I am still to say good bye. In my mind, he is still there, as he always was and always will be. By her side...
I will see the woman who made us all who we are. The brave, strong, sometimes hard but always loving woman who is my grandmother. I will see my beautiful mama and sister. I will laugh together with my wonderful godmother who is also my aunt. I will eat her delicious cakes and worry not about the pounds. I will kiss my nephews and nieces. I will be home. I will be with family and that in itself is joy. I feel like a starving dog who is about to eat a whole cow.
I love my children more than anything. But I feel I am failing in giving them the same childhood as I once had. I just wish for them to know more love. More love from other women and men who also love them. More love from day to day, rather than from year to year.
