On Saturday, January 28, 2017 my beloved grandfather passed away. He was 91 years old. He grew up in occupied Poland during the chaos of World War II, fell in love with my grandmother the day he met her, escaped the uncertainty of a post-war Europe, and established a large family in America with his loving wife. His story and his accomplishments are a living tribute to the American Dream and its beauty. 

For me, he was the best grandfather, or Dziadziu as I call him, that a child could ever ask for. He was one of my life’s greatest joys. The pain of his loss is some of the worst pain I have ever felt. It’s the first major loss of my life and I’m learning what it means to grieve. But I find comfort in being grateful. 

When thinking of him I feel so much gratitude – for all of the memories, for all of the laughter, for each lecture, for every lesson he taught me. Going through old photos is both soothing and healing for me – because it reminds me not to despair but instead see how lucky I was, and how lucky I still am to have this amazing man be a guiding force in my life.

Kocham cię Dziadziu ❤️ Rest in peace – we will be together again someday.