Mrs. K.

I don't know what it is about the Irish and attending wakes. I think somewhere, deep in our bones, drinkers or not, we Irish still believe someone will hand us a drink. Since the only thing an Irishman loves more then drink is a good laugh or a good cry, a wake is still the perfect place to see loved ones. Last night I attended a wake and as I left the house, each child and then husband called after me, "Have a good time!" Now that is either the Irish in them or a pityful statement on my social life.
The wake I went to last night was for the mom of my mom's dear friend, Mrs. Karasinski. I pretty much only call her Mrs. K. I can tell you the very first time Mom met Mrs. K: We were crossing a side street on Walburton Ave. in Yonkers to our apartment building. Mrs. K and her family lived across the street in an old converted Victorian. She was so young and cool to my experienced Kindergarten mind! Her son Ed and I went to kindergarten,at PS 25, together and and as it would turn out, we went through all of grade school at St. Matthews for the next 8 years. We even went to college together for a few years as well.
A lifelong friendship began on a street corner in Yonkers between these two incredibly different woman. They would do PTA and hot dog lunches and class trips together. They care pooled together and I was the thorn in the side of Mrs. K's in that car....just ask her, she will tell you! Every mark on her son Ed's face, came from me...she can also tell you that I gave him those right before every picture the family ever took together!
In the years of Mom's illness, Mrs. K brought food (come of the best ever!) and she would visit with Mom for a few hours at a time.
At the end, after a visit to the hospital, Mom turned to me and said, "What a good friend she turned out to be."
Well today Mrs. K buries her own Mom. Yes, she was in her 90's and had lived a full life. Mrs. K is a grandma herself, many times over. But she lost her mom. That always hurt, be it at 90 or 53 or 28.
As I've said before, there is a loneliness in losing your mom that only those who know, know.