We Are Family

Some people collect model trains. Or baseball cards.

Ray Kowiako collected family. And I was blessed to be a part of that collection.

Ray passed away August 1, just a few weeks shy of his 82nd birthday. He had been slowly going downhill the past few months and the rest of the family knew things weren't good when he missed Ben's graduation party, then Rachel's wedding. One of Ray's favorite things in the world was a family gathering, and it would take a lot for him to not be at one, let alone two.

Ray was not someone with a wild, adventurous life to look back on in his golden years, unless you count the time a rattlesnake crawled into his sleeping bag and gave Ray a little nip while Ray was stationed in Louisiana for his military hitch.

Three things mattered to Ray: his faith, his family and his work.

He took great pride in his lifelong career as a carpenter. His daughter, Sandi, said that family drives often featured Ray pointing out houses and buildings and describing the work he had done in them. He built a modern family room addition to his home. Sandi's home features lovely custom built-in cabinetry and shelves made by Ray. When Sandi decided to redecorate recently, Ray got grumpy because the wallpaper he'd installed in the dining room 15 years prior was coming down.

Ray was also proud of being a union man. At the calling hours, his union membership cards were displayed at his casket.

When he wasn't at work, Ray was all about family. He was a loving husband to his late wife, Millie. As long as I've known him, his schedule revolved around Sandi, her husband Jim, and Ray's greatest joy and delight -- his granddaughters Emily and Julie. During the school year, Ray and his faithful companion, Snowball, would leave their home in the early afternoon and head over to Sandi's. He would be there when the girls got home from school, make dinner, and spend suppertime with the family before heading home.

Ray also had weekly rituals including visits with his brother, Steve, and sisters Hattie and Theresa.

At big family gatherings, he would happily sit with his siblings, smiling gently, seeing the big, extended family of parents, children, grandchildren, brothers, sisters and cousins all together. When Sandi and Jim hosted the parties, he always made sure to bring the old-school kielbasa.

I did not know Ray until almost 11 years ago, when I moved to Cleveland. I'd known all along that my paternal grandmother, Helen Saniuk Hebert, had been born here and had lived in the Slavic Village neighborhood until she was 10, when the family moved back east, eventually settling in Danbury where the hat factory jobs were. What I did not know back then was that my great-grandparents, Kaszimer and Emilia Saniuk, had a connection to Cleveland in Emilia's brother, Boleslaw Kowiako. One of Boleslaw's five children was Ray.

Ray and my grandmother kept in touch over the years, and, when Ray found out one of his cousin's descendants was moving to Cleveland, he made sure to reach out.

That was my lucky day.

Moving around for my career the way I had, I hadn't established deep connections where I'd lived beyond friendships with co-workers. In the days before the Internet and e-mail and Facebook, maintaining home ties was challenging in the face of a demanding career, night shifts and several address changes.

That changed when I got to Cleveland and Ray took me in as part of the Kowiako clan.That wonderful family welcomed me instantly and, later, welcomed John.

We've celebrated births, weddings, graduations. And now, we've mourned. But I also celebrate the man. Because of Ray, I've been blessed to get to know a new side of my family, to befriend wonderful people of several generations, and, for the first time since I left Connecticut, feel like where I lived was home. 

Comments

[Melinda]

This is such a lovely tribute to someone who must have been a lovely person.