In 1974, my grandmother Yiayia - the ever evolving, wonderfully witty Penelope Conomos - began to enjoy a season of prosperity. She gratefully welcomed the birth of her final grandchild - a baby girl named Alexa. And with her children and five grandchildren now all living nearby, the Conomos family circle was complete.
And so over the years, the former peasant girl who'd never surpassed a 3rd grade education would attend every graduation. After leaving her primary family behind in Greece decades ago, she would spend every birthday and holiday with the new one she and Papou created in America. And time after time, the indelibly feisty Penelope Conomos would simply astound her 2nd generation American grandchildren.
For they would often wonder ~ what did she do to keep her '66 Dodge Dart so pristine? How did she understand THEIR jokes, then laugh louder than anyone else? Just where did she find the energy to mow her lawn, clean the gutters and climb the roof of her home? And on summer fishing trips, how did she catch more trout than all of her grandkids combined? Yes, after all that wondering, they could only conclude one thing ~ their Yiayia was the eighth wonder of the world.
Even more years later, one grandchild seized upon the opportunity of a lifetime. Admitted into Santa Clara University - I would live less than a mile away from my beloved Yiayia And so over the next four years, I'd pack my school bag. Walk to that little pink house. Knock on the red door. And be welcomed into a world of warmth with her trademark greeting ~ "Oh my Alexa, my sweetheart!"
And so after a little studying and a big Greek meal, we would sit at that tiny kitchen table and talk about 'the life.' And what emerged was the poignant story of a poor village girl who faced and overcame countless tribulations with courage and grit. Until that moment, I never truly appreciated the depth of loss she endured so that one day I could lead a richer life. But now, as I recall that my university sits across the street from the very factory where Yiayia labored for years, I can't help but cry for the profound irony.
In later years, Yiayia and I would share another poignant conversation at her kitchen table. I'd just accepted my first reporting job in Palm Springs, CA. And in tears, I shared that I was afraid to move away from home. But in her trademark Greek accent she said, "Oh my Alexa. Do not worry so. Remember that I left my mother in Greece to come to America. It will be alright." And yet, she would come to regret that long ago conversation. For that first job redirected the path of my life - and it now winds thousands of miles away from my Yiayia.
Over the years ~ weddings, baptisms, and just plain missing that feisty family matriarch would beckon me home for sweet reunions. But soon, a painful event would bring Yiayia and her children, grandchildren and now great grandchildren together once again. A loss so profound the Conomos family would never be the same.