Grandma: The Story Of A Boy And His Grandma hu4a

Grandma

The Story of a Boy and His Grandma

BY JOSEPH S. WOLKIN

Copyright © 2015 BY Joseph S. Wolkin.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-4808-1517-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-1518-6 (e)

Printed in the United States of America.

Archway Publishing rev. date: 01/29/2015

Dedicated to the memory of my beloved grandmother, Doris Wolkin, along with my parents, Jeffrey and Cheryl Wolkin. And to Rabbi Steven Axelman, who has been a great inspiration in my life.

Her name was Doris. She was beautiful. She always told me she had beautiful blonde curls as a little girl. Unfortunately, I never got to see those curls.

Every time I would go see her as a little boy, I was afraid — afraid of the love that she had to offer. She was the sweetest woman with the sweetest voice ever. In a way, her voice reminded me of cartoon characters that I watched as a kid.

We would go everywhere together. She used to pick me up from school when I was sick. One time, I was very ill, and she had to go to the doctor. She took me to the doctor with her, but that’s not the best memory I have of her. In fact, that memory has begun to disappear as I get older.

When she finished up at the doctor, it was time for her to do what she did best, and that was to take care of her youngest grandson, Joseph.

Her house was beautiful — bricks on the outside and filled with love on the inside. Right by her windows, Grandma had a collection of these little items that I would play with all the time. I don’t know why, but for some reason these tchotchkes (choch-ka’s) meant a lot to me.

Even though I had fun at her house, I was always crying. It could have been because maybe I loved her too much, especially as I grew older. Each time I walked into her house after I got a haircut, she would always say to me, “Look who got a haircut,” with her sweet voice that was like no other. Then, the tears came from my eyes for a reason not even I will ever know.

Grandma Doris was an amazing woman. When it was nice out, she would sit on her lawn chair at the top of the stairs by her house and play ball with me. Unfortunately, she was starting to get old and sick. Her health was going downhill faster than a chill that runs up your back.

I began spending more time with her. One day, she got really sick. Her best friend, Claudia, suddenly called me and told me to come over. I didn’t know what to expect. I got there, and we had to break open the door because she would not answer. I walked in and shouted, “Grandma! Grandma! Where are you?” I walked into her room, and she wasn’t answering me. We called 9-1-1, and thankfully she was okay.

Then, I had my Bar Mitzvah — the day I became a man, according to Jewish customs. It was a cloudy day at first, but the sky began to show its true blue form. I sang as best as I could, and Grandma had a smile that I had never seen in my life. It was a smile that I imagine people sometimes having, but you don’t see it very often.

Grandma Doris’s health kept getting worse, and sooner rather than later, she couldn’t walk that much. During the holidays, the entire family gathered at her house. But now it was a struggle for her to prepare dinner for us on the holidays. The best part was getting to see everyone because of her. We never saw each other except for the holidays, and it is that way to this day. She taught us how to gather around and pray to show that we have so much to be thankful for. Unfortunately, the holidays were getting to be too much for her, and she could no longer show us the traditional holiday moments that she had created for so many years.

She just kept getting sicker, and there was nothing I could do except to be at her side. I went to see her every single day throughout high school. Whether she was at home or at an old folk’s home, I made sure I was there every day. One day, she called me late at night, asking what time it was, because her watch broke. I rushed over there with a little kid’s watch I hadn’t worn in years, and she gladly accepted it with a look on her face that showed just how grateful she truly was.

Day after day, we played cards. It was so cute to watch her win. The smile on her face was beautiful. Her laugh was the cutest thing I would ever hear. It’s times like that that I will always .

Her love was truly the best gift I have ever received. Thanks to her, I learned about life. I learned how to live, and that is not something many teenagers will master. We did everything together. There are still the memories of going to dinner with her, or when she would pick me up from school, and even of when she made me soup when I was sick.

Then, everything stopped. It was time to say good-bye to the sweetest woman I have ever known.

Grandma got very sick. Eventually, G-d took her to the gates of heaven. Right before she left us, I made sure to say the words that everyone needs to say more often: “I love you.” She was, and always will be, my grandma.