By Janet Stoica

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Have you ever experienced that just over-the-edge emotion when describing someone dear to another person?  It happened to me one evening several years ago as I was saying good night to my elderly mom as I tucked her into bed. My emotions got the better of me due to a weekly visit I’d just had with one of the residents at a nursing & rehab facility (where I served as a volunteer ombudsman assisting those residents who might require some extra help with different aspects of their lives).

That day, I happened to sit down to chat with a most wonderful grandmother who was very eager to have some company. She was an immigrant from Poland which is where my own cherished grandmother, or Babci, was from. (Babci is the Polish word for grandmother.) She spoke in broken English but it was very easy to understand her. This accent, along with her white hair and bright blue eyes were very reminiscent of my Babci too.

   She told me how she came to America and worked many years in housekeeping for a large corporation outside of a large New England city and how she and her husband had two wonderful children, a boy and a girl, who were very good to her. Her daughter, she told me, had two degrees from a very well-known engineering school but that daughter had recently passed away from a fast-moving cancer and Babci’s own husband had passed in the last year too. Her wonderful son had a good business of his own and always looked after his mom. I had also met her son on a previous visit and can attest to his high level of attention to his mom. This nice Babci and her husband had a beautiful home where she had a large vegetable garden as well as blueberry bushes and apple trees. She and her family canned many fruits and vegetables every late summer and fall. Their yard, perhaps a half-acre, was always very well maintained. They were proud of having come to America to make a good life for themselves as well as for their children. Much like all immigrants who come to this country. 

Now, however, here she was in the nursing home. When I lightly knocked on her room’s door to introduce myself, she was napping but she quickly swung her legs over her bedside and welcomed me into her room with a bright smile. She didn’t know who I was yet, even with my name tag, but she was very eager to speak with me. I stayed for about 30 minutes talking with her. She told me much about herself in such a short time. She sure did remind me of my own Babci who worked hard to raise her kids to have a better life. My own Babci who showed me how to make homemade noodles to go along with her homemade chicken soup. My Babci, who had a hard life when she first arrived in America.

My Babci has been gone for many years now but I still miss her and think of her every day. As I tucked my own mom into bed that night I told her how I’d met this most wonderful lady who reminded me so much of my own Babci and then my voice cracked as I wanted to tell mom all about her but couldn’t speak another word. Mom just said, “Say a prayer for her.” So I did, and cried a while doing so.

This small tribute is for you, my Babci, and all the other grandmothers and grandfathers out there who are in nursing homes and rehab centers and have no one to visit them or relatives who don’t quite get the Golden Rule. Who knows if we might become a resident in one of these centers and won’t have anyone to visit us?  That day, I brought a smile to a nice lady with a beautiful life story. I couldn’t wait to visit her again and perhaps another nursing home resident who would look forward to sharing their life story. I was always honored and grateful that they choose to visit with me.