Feh! (A Tribute to Mutti)

My grandmother passed away last week. She was 95. I am exceedingly lucky to have had as many years as I did with her. While she could be difficult, I know she loved me very much.

I'm certain that Kieran's memory of his Oma will fade over time. She kept shushing him and asking him to sit still (not something that he did easily until this past year - and then only with a book or device in his hands). Sadly, Mia will likely not remember her at all, though she has been asking to see her almost daily. I hope that they will at least remember that she loved them, loved their visits and smiles - even if she wanted them to do it quietly.

Mutti (as I called my grandmother) was feisty. A word often used by the staff at Roland Park Place, likely in lieu of 'difficult' or 'pain in the ass' to describe her. As she aged these past few years, she grew more docile. Frankly, the more agreeable she got, the more I worried for her health. And yet the last time I visited her, though she barely spoke and was obviously week, I thought to myself how beautiful she looked. I will carry that memory with me like a treasure.

Her stories are legendary and, while they changed over time, I know that she lived the truth of them. From being robbed on a train and helped by strangers in France (I think) to living in a house of ill repute that would tell her when raids were coming. She was progressive in many ways - she lived 'in sin' with my grandfather for many years and finally proposed to him (spoiler - he said yes). She worked, she volunteered and knitted. While the yarn gene seems to have skipped my mom, I definitely got it and the overall creative gene lives on in my niece, Becca.

I think the thing I'll remember most is the fact that I was (OK, am) such a picky eater that her favorite refrain for me was "Feh! You don't know what's good!" in response to whatever it was I had refused to eat. I'm a significantly more adventurous eater than I was as a kid - but even then I tried things like beef tongue. She cooked a variety of things because my grandfather was a human garbage disposal, he even ate apple cores. Now that I have a picky eater of my own, I will pick up the mantle of forcing him to try a lot of things. I may keep the "Feh!" but I think I'll let him decide for himself what's good.

I'll miss you, Mutti for now and always.