Papa

November 15, 1935 - August 24, 2014

Yesterday morning, my Papa lost his battle to cancer. It's unreal that just 51 weeks ago, he was in the hospital over Labor Day weekend for some irregular heartbeats (a-fib), that in turn became internal bleeding, that in turn led to have his kidney removed, that in turn led to a cancer diagnosis in mid-October. In January he started chemotherapy, his first of three rounds. But all that medical nonsense aside, cancer is a bitch and I'm angry and sad and heartbroken that it's taken away my grandfather. 

My grandfather was the first one to jump when I was moving - he moved my stuff home out of my freshman year residence hall and drove me (and his full truck) home. He and Nana moved me back after Christmas into my new on-campus aparment sophomore year. He moved me out of San Diego. And to Texas (literally at the drop of a hat, maybe 15 hours' notice). Without missing a beat. 

When I was in first grade, I learned to skip a bar on the monkey bars. That's a BIG deal, if you recall. Papa was picking us up from school that day, for whatever reason, and I was so excited to go home and show him on the bars in our backyard. Well, I was so excited, I swung and missed the bar and fell on my arm... and thus breaking my arm at the elbow. Naturally, he freaked out, and after the parademics wrapped me up and mom got home and took me to urgent care... he went to my aunt's and had a total meltdown. To this day, he blamed himself. 

He eagerly jumped on stage with me on our family cruise (after chemo round 2) and took disco lessons with me for half an hour. The video is pretty priceless. He laughed at himself the whole time, and had a ball.

When we were learning to crawl, he'd follow us around on his hands and knees too. My mom would ask him what on earth he was doing and he'd reply, "I don't want them to hit their heads!" and continue to follow us around, wherever we went. 

My sister and I would spend hours playing in his garage - Legos, box tunnels... no matter what he was trying to work on or file or project to complete, he'd stop to add boxes to make sure our tunnel and box-fort was big enough, or that our Lego house was sturdy. 

For my senior prom, Doug and I and about 3 or 4 other couples all met at my house for appetizers and photos before heading off. It started to rain, just slightly, and we were trying to get to the limo as dry as possible. My grandpa, being the organizer that he was, marched us all out - couple by couple - with the big umbrella, aiming to get us to the car with the least amount of rain as possible. Other parents wanted to help, but didn't dare when Papa was in charge!

Papa, we love and miss you so much already. I'm in peace knowing that you aren't hurting anymore and that your days are now with your mom, playing the drums, and seeing all those we love. Thank you for a lifetime of memories in your garage, on the soccer field, in the trailer up in Buellton and on our family cruise this spring. Play your drums proud, loud for us to hear, and know that we'll see you again! 

We love you, Papa!

Keep heaven in order for us. 

#BostonStrongATH - Athens, Georgia

A run for us to unite and show our strength.
A run for those that were unable to finish.
A run for those that may never run again.
A run for us to try and make sense of the tragedy that has forever changed something we love.

Pavement Runner started an incredible movement with the idea of the #BostonStrong run series, for Monday evening, one week since the tragedy in Boston. I quickly emailed the idea to one of our Athens Road Runners board members on Tuesday, and by Wednesday I had a Facebook event invite waiting for me - runners make things happen. The ARR coordinated the run, with further coordination for shirts from the Athens Running Company and a local State Farm agent jumped in for water for post-run refreshment. Community. What a community.

I'd say there were safely between 200 and 250 runners that came out Monday for a solemn 3 miles around Athens - moms, kids, dogs, college students, and some of our area-based 17 Boston Marathoners from this year. An amazing turnout for an event with five days' notice. Humbling, to say the least.

 We started with a 26-second moment of silence for each mile of Boston, followed by introductions of our Boston Marathoners that were able to make it, and a description of the course. ARR won over the hearts of the local police with the promise that all of us (yes, all of us) would obey traffic laws, stop signs, and run on sidewalks. We did... for the most part.

It felt like any other 5K in town - we usually run (most of) the course during our Saturday group runs, in some form or another, so I knew the hills backwards and forwards (mostly forwards), and knew what was coming. I felt great, but knew to back off coming into mile 3, where I started to feel it. Chandler and I chatted most of the way, as I bolted my way through what was supposed to be an easy 3 miles for the day (spoiler: they were too fast for 'easy'!). 

 source | Chandler told me she wanted to learn how to pose like me while running. Win.

The part that got me most was seeing families - parents, their kids, toddlers, and even a set of infant twin baby girls - were out on their porches cheering, like it was an actual race through their neighborhood. I got goosebumps every time I passed one of those houses, thinking of all those spectators killed, injured. They're hurting just as much as we are as runners.

I even got to chat with the press (and more photos I know you want to see here). Afterward, a local bar held a post-run gathering, complete with free hot dogs, water, tea, and Sam Adams for the cheap. Spectacular.

Did you participate in a #BostonStrong run on Monday?

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National Blogging Day of Remembrance

This effort was started by Carrian Cheney of Sweet Basil (blog) & graphic was created by Nike Peterson of Nike Peterson Designs.

 If you’d like to donate to a United Way fund for the victims, you may do so here.

My Letter to Nagymama

Two weeks ago, my family all re-gathered in Los Angeles for a memorial for my grandmother, April 14, 2012. We did the same with my grandpa died, because he died in Hungary too; there's still so many friends and close ones that are in LA that they knew while living in the States, so I think we'd hoped it be a closing for everyone. I anticipated this would not be easy -- far from it -- but I also hoped that by being at home, with people who had known me since the day I was born, that it would all make it a little more... real. And it did.

Below is my eulogy, if you will, that I gave at her memorial. I wanted to blog it just so I could keep it and have it to re-read whenever I needed.

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Some of you may know that I'm a writer -- blogger, journaler, and have been as long as I can remember. I remember, during our first visit to the new house in Velence in 1993, writing about how much I loved the new house "with the bumpy driveway," as the driveway was still on gravel and un-paved.

Last month, I was sitting on the plane coming home from Budapest, and I did it again. Just started writing memories of Hugary, that house, and Nagymama, just for safe-keeping. It was mostly so I wouldn't cry the whole way home, but I'm glad I wrote those down and now I get to share a few of them with you. Some are things that everyone here might know of, some might just be for us to chuckle at, but I think a few will be of typical Nagymama behavior.

I think one of mine, and I can probably say 'our' favorite things were trips to the arboretum. We'd stop at the Wonder Bread factory, by armfuls of the "must-go" bread, and we'd go feed the ducks and peacocks as we pleased. She loved that place so much.

I remember, as a kid, being bribed to each spinach, only while we actually got to watch Popeye, as she convinced us that eating the spinach would actually work.

Sometime while Marika and I were in high school, she had the four of us granddaughters come over for lunch on New Year's Day for split-pea soup; she told us it was for good luck in the new year. You might know I'm not exactly the culinary adventurist of the family, so I probably pretended to eat it but instead listened as she told us the entire story of how she and Nagypapa met.

My freshman year of college, she bought me Hilary Duff's new CD for Christmas. Not because she had any idea who Hilary Duff was, but because she was pretty and she thought I looked just like her. I was appalled. It's still in my CD collection and I guess now is a good time to open it.

Trips to Hungary, especially the last one when I was 14. I can understand enough Hungarian to make sense of a conversation, and while I don't always know every word, I could always tell how proud she was of her whole family whenever she talked about us.

Nagymama, we love you, we miss you so much already, but all I can hope is that we can continue to make you proud. <3

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