My mom says that Kaio reminds her of her brother; so animated, sweet, and happy. And that her grandmother loved her little brother so much. They were inseparable. When the fire started, he was playing by her feet in the kitchen, which is where he always stayed. They say that she tried to dowse the cooking fire with oil. Totally what you are not supposed to do. But my Great-Grandma predicted that she would die with him. Or said that she didn't want to live without him. So it turned out to be a self fulfilling prophesy.
And here is my grandfather, Tata, at a graveyard in Trenton, New Jersey. This is where he is buried, where his wife is buried, and where his bothers and sisters - who died as children - are buried. Five of his siblings died of childhood diseases during the short period that they lived in the United States. That was in the 1910's. They moved back to Romania in 1920, when my Grandfather was five years old. Only he and one younger brother lived into adulthood.
Actually Tata didn't know that Kaio was my baby. He always called him Mikey, referring to my little brother Micheal. And if both Micheal and Kaio were in a room together, Tata still didn't get it. He would just brush his hand at the thought that the baby was anyone other than baby Mikey.
Kaio would crawl to him, sit in his lap, kiss him, and play with him. one day when we visited Tata in the hospital and Kaio saw him in pain, well that was the most upset that I ever saw baby Kaio. I feel blessed that they were able to connect. And although Kaio was too young at the time to remember, and Tata too old to understand, there was something profoundly magical about the connection they shared together. The connected in the purest possible realm of existence, where their spirits danced and no words or actions were needed, only a look, a laugh, and maybe a tickle. Witnessing this is what drives me to believe that children and elderly need to play together.
beautiful post, krissee!
ReplyDeletethanks Ria.
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