Grandma

I found out about my grandma’s death through a Google search.

It was a random, unrelated search—and yet there was her obituary. Geraldine A. Kosinski. At first, the name meant nothing to me. My mom’s maiden name is Willets, Geraldine remarried, she lives in Florida, and I have never met her.

That’s why it was such a strange feeling, knowing my grandma had died. I was reading what her loved ones decided to write about her, their commentary on her life. A part of me felt appropriately sad—after all, without her, I wouldn’t be here. She raised my mom, shaped who she is, therefore shaping who I am.

But I couldn’t tell you if she has curly, white grandma hair, or if she’s one who tints her hair blue. Or if she kept dying it dark, dark brown, despite the wrinkles that give away her age. I don’t know if she bakes delicious cookies in a sunflower-themed kitchen, or if she’s more of a pie lady. Is her laugh a high-pitched jingle, or a low chuckle? Is her skin a deep bronze from the Florida sun she loves to lie out in on a bright orange beach towel?

I know she was ill, seriously ill. My mom visited her for a week in July 2010. I was pulling together the details of my wedding then. I had sent her an obligatory invitation, but didn’t expect a response. I sent her an invitation to my high school graduation, but it was returned to sender.

Her obituary wasn’t overly sad, but it felt very final. It wasn’t like I was planning a trip to see her, but this sealed that I would never be able to meet her. But if I had never Google searched for my parents’ marriage license, I would never have known of the loss. But it wasn’t my loss, really. What right did I have to claim to be sad—this obituary was really no different than the thousands published in newspapers on May 26, 2011 worldwide.

It reminded me of when my aunt Kay took me to the small cemetery in Trimont, MN. Several of our family members (her aunts, uncles, great aunts, etc.) are buried there. I remember seeing the first marker with WOHLENHAUS etched in the stone. Even though I hardly recognized the deceased’s name, it was the first grave marker I’d ever seen with my last name on it. And it affected me. Not in a way I could put words to, but in a very real way.

At the end of Geraldine A. Kosinski’s obituary, there was a “guestbook” section, where readers could leave sympathy comments. I read through the half dozen posted—wonderful words about an apparently wonderful woman.

Even though we’ve never met, I hope to carry on that legacy.

http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/gainesville/obituary.aspx?n=geraldine-a-kosinski&pid=151303431