In the evening on Wednesday the 18th of February, my Grandmother, my mother’s mother, passed away in her nursing home. She was the beloved wife of the late Michey Olah, and proud mother of Rozalia Balon and Elizabeth Olah-Stojanovski. She loved each of her grandchildren, Michael, Caitlin, Michelle, myself and Kevin to no end. And was never afraid to shake a wooden spoon at us when we were misbehaving.
My mother has endless stories about growing up with my grandmother, in Australia and Canada, and is always more than happy to share them with my and my siblings. Perhaps it is because they’re Hungarian, they had their own way of seeing eye-to-eye. And as we, her grandchildren, became older, we experienced it too, and enjoyed every minute of it.
I still can’t believe she’s gone. We had all visited her on the Tuesday, some saying goodbye, just in case, and the rest saying we’ll see her tomorrow. We sat and we waited for what we knew was coming but hoping wouldn’t. We silently hoped that she would change her mind and eat again. That having everyone around her would renew her reason to live. My grandmother had a massive stroke about 3 years ago. She could not speak or walk, but made strides in being able to use her left arm to feed herself, brush her hair, and developed her own way of communicating with us and her nurses. She did however, hate it there. It’s not that she wasn’t taken care of or treated badly, she just didn’t like being there around other ailing people and people she didn’t know. She stopped trying to speak, never tried walking, and some days would flat out refuse to leave her bed. We couldn’t convince her to keep trying so we could take her out of there.
I’m sitting here struggling to write anything, as I have since Thursday, because I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had anyone this close to me pass away and I don’t know what to do with myself. I miss her so much and there isn’t anything I can do anymore. I know a lot of those who follow my blog have mentioned their own losses either through their own blogs or when we have spoken. How do you handle it? I don’t know how to stop crying every time I think of her.