We lost the best of the best one month ago: The best mother, the best mother-in-law, the best granny, and the best great-grandmother.
For as long as I can remember, Granny has always been there. Living two towns over from my dad’s childhood home certainly helped. She was there for every school play, every dance recital, every graduation. For several years, while Val and I were still really little, my family’s only night out of the week was Friday pizza nights at Granny and Pop-pop’s house. Their house was the final stop of every trick-or-treating excursion so they could see our costumes.
Sleepovers at Granny’s were a treat growing up. I have fond memories of waking up to popovers in the morning, running through the sprinklers, looking through all the knickknacks in the sunroom pretending I was in the West Wing of the Beast’s castle (yes, I was that kid.) One summer, we ate at every hot-dog place in North Jersey we could think of just to find out which one was the best. (It's Hot Grill. It will always be Hot Grill.)
She was such a strong example of the way she lived her Catholic faith. She was a member of the rosary society at the same church that Pop-pop was a trustee of—it's also the same church where my parents got married. Whenever she would tuck us into bed, she would pray the Guardian Angel prayer with us, and it's something I still say between decades of the rosary. This was the reason I asked her to be my confirmation sponsor. The day before she passed, I was able to say a Divine Mercy Chaplet at her bedside. I was honored to repay her in some small way for the gift of faith she gave me.
Granny and Pop-pop always hosted the big Wolak Christmas party, which also involved a pre-Christmas pierogi pinching party a few weeks before. My love for Polish cuisine was born around their kitchen table. Before my trip to Poland for World Youth Day in 2016, she tried to teach me a couple Polish words. One of the few I remember is piwo (beer).
While my parents’ current house was being built, we lived with her and Pop-pop. She was there for the morning rush to get out the door, the afternoon pickup/dropoff to all our various after-school activities, and dinner and bedtime. And it was while we lived there that my Pop-pop passed away after battling leukemia.
When she moved to a beachside condo on the Jersey Shore after Pop-pop's death, we kept up the summer sleepover tradition. During my weekend off of a month-long summer theatre intensive at Rutgers, I didn't see my parents, I saw Granny. We walked along the Asbury Park boardwalk, when there were only a few shops and one restaurant there.
One distinct memory I have is from my older cousin's wedding, for which I was a bridesmaid. It was the after-party at the hotel, way past midnight, and I was exhausted after an 18-hour day. Granny was happily sitting in a chair with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other. It was then I accepted the fact that Granny was way cooler than I could ever be.
Though her health declined significantly during and after the pandemic, she was in the front row when I married Charlie last September. That day, he put on my finger the same white-gold band that Pop-pop gave her on their wedding day. They made it to 50 years of marriage before Pop-pop's death. Charlie's godmother had convinced us to get a wedding videographer because one day, we would want to see the people we loved on film. She was right; we now have precious film of Granny on my wedding day that I will cherish forever. (And Chari Films did an amazing job!)
At her last birthday party in April, she couldn’t speak very much, but when she saw all of us gathered together, she said, “Lucky, lucky, lucky.”
No, Granny. We were the lucky ones. I miss you. I love you.
Frances Krassowski Wolak
April 15, 1931 - May 13, 2023
“Many are the women of proven worth, but you have excelled them all.” - Proverbs 31:29
This is such a beautiful tribute to your grandmother ❤️ May her soul rest in peace 🙏🏾