Helen
We’ve been watching Mad Men, the first time for Jon and a rewatch for me, and I think that’s why I’ve been thinking of my grandmother so often. She reminds me of a working-class Betty Draper, a woman with her own wants but forced into a life she might not necessarily have chosen for herself. My feeling as her grandchild was that she actively disliked children. She almost certainly had undiagnosed depression which she self-medicated by smoking and watching tv.
She was loud and crabby but it’s the quiet moments I have the clearest memories of. We would sit at opposite ends of the kitchen table, me eating cereal before school while she drank coffee and did the word puzzles in the newspaper. I think I got my love of crossword puzzles from watching her. She loved animals but we weren’t allowed to have pets. She gardened, planting tulips and digging up the bulbs in the fall. She made sure we started every Thanksgiving dinner with a prayer.
Today is five years since Helen died. She was living in one of the hardest hit nursing homes in the hardest hit zip codes in Philly when it came to early Covid deaths. It’s also my birthday.
It’s strange, to now be linked to this relative in this way. Today in particular she’s been heavy on my mind. I put out a cup of coffee for her and an old lipstick of hers I had pocketed for some reason when my grandfather was going through her things. I don’t use it, but it stays in my makeup drawer and I can’t bring myself to toss it. I think of her when I crochet and it’s her hand-beaded ornaments I hang on our tree every Christmas. I think of how funny it is that my Korean mom’s famous Jewish apple cake is a recipe she got from my Austrian Catholic grandmother. I’m the most sentimental of my siblings, and the eldest if that matters, is that why I feel the need to do this?
I’m not sure where I’m going with this. As a birthday this year was a good one. But this day isn’t just mine anymore. It’s also Helen’s.