Patricia Malinenko

Patricia Malinenko (nee Urff) aka Mom, Grandma, Grammie and of course, Trish the Dish, through words and deeds imparted a lot of important lessons on her family. Some were small like teaching her daughters and granddaughter how to make the perfect macaroni and cheese (béchamel always, never breadcrumbs), or how to piece together the best Halloween costume from the trunks in the attic or how to slide (safely) down the staircase on pillowcases.

Some were big - like raising three girls to know how to use their voice in a world that doesn’t always want to know what girls think. To love as hard and loud and honestly as possible. She taught them that no matter what this world belonged to them too. That no matter how grown they are, magic doesn’t have to die, not really.

Pat was born in Brooklyn NY but soon settled in The Bronx with her parents Joan and Henry. Shortly thereafter, a little brother named Tom was born. She met Ron Malinenko as a teenager. He would sing “Mrs. Brown You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter” by Herman’s Hermits whenever she and her mother came into the deli he worked at. They fell in love, married, and eventually moved up to Monroe with their daughters Jennifer and Stephanie, shortly followed by another, Allyson.

Every birthday, each of Pat’s daughters would wake to an elaborately decorated kitchen and a dinner and dessert of their choosing. Each school year, Pat would pick a random day and decide that today one of her daughters didn’t have to go to school. Instead, they spent the day with mom, shopping or going to the Jersey Shore, whatever they liked. Her girls never knew when it was coming but they always knew it would. And they tried not to be jealous when it was their sister’s turn because theirs was coming. It was one of the many ways, she taught them to expect the unexpected. To always look for magic.

While they didn’t have much money, Christmas was always a big affair. On Christmas Eve she hung the big Santa key on the front door since there was no chimney to go down because Pat believed in magic. She took her daughters to the library every weekend and let them check out the maximum number of books. She always offered to be the parent who would pick the kids up after the movies, no matter how late it was. She read the same bedtime stories over and over again without complaint. She took her daughters into the voting booth every election year to show them that this act, was also an act of love. To show them that we must always care about the people around us.

She taught her daughters that if they were in trouble, to call her, no matter where and what time and she would come get them, no questions asked. She baked them each a cake that said “You’re a Woman Now” when they got their periods. She taught them not to be ashamed of their bodies, their girlhood, or their dreams. She taught them to always believe in magic.

She was a good cook. She made the best baked macaroni and cheese and the equally excellent chicken parmesan to name a few. She wouldn’t let you pay the check at a restaurant and more than one time chased a daughter or two around the table to get the bill back. She sprained her ankle goofing around in the kitchen doing her impersonation of figure skater Linda Fratianne. She never lost her New York Accent. She put an “r” in the word fajita. For their entre marriage, her husband referred to her as The Most Beautiful Girl in the World. Pat gave the best hugs. Growing up she never liked the Beatles but warmed up to them later in life. She was a Motown girl through and through. Later she became a big Sinatra fan which surprised her cause it’s all her father listened to when she was growing up.

She was funny and sassy and generous and her grandkids were the loves of her life. She was the quintessential Grammie, one who would never say no and was always up for whatever her grandkids wanted to do. She played the dutiful student always ready for a play school lesson with Neve, the Wii bowling competitor, the baking companion, the LEGO master with Wesley, and anything else requested of her. She took her grandson Nick to Anime Con, complete with costumes and hit up all the events. She loved things because other people loved them. For Pat that was more than enough. She was adored and loved by her grandkids and will be missed more than she could imagine.

These are some of the stories about Pat Malinenko. And they matter because truthfully all we are in the end are the stories people tell about us. And these are good stories. But still Pat had something else.

Because more than anything Pat loved fiercely. It was part of her magic. She knew that love was an active word. Love was not passive and neither was she. She had a fire in her and she believed in the goodness of people. She believed if you loved someone you did it actively, you loved them so that they would not have to wonder if you cared or were proud because they would know by your actions. That fierce love made her stand up for herself, made her believe in herself. She wasn’t afraid to take up room or speak her mind. And she poured that same love into all her daughters and grandchildren.

She knew that every day counted, that we are all finite but lucky to be here and that is what makes life so special. It is temporary and that’s why it matters. She understood that particular magic most of all. It made her a better mother. A better wife. A better sister. A better friend.

The First Law of Thermodynamics tells us that matter cannot be created nor destroyed – and this is also true for a fierce kind of love. And this is a comfort to those of us left behind. Knowing that love is still in us and still around us, still a part of us. Another kind of magic.

At the end of every life, when the people gather and the stories are shared, and the tears are shed, and the laughter becomes a balm, something powerful is left behind. Something is forged out of those stories. Something like a legacy. Something that distills the essence of a person down to one or two truly defining things.

Pat’s defining thing, the thing that is left behind and never leaves, was her fierce love. Her love for her family and friends of course, but also towards the world. In the end, one is hard-pressed to think of a better legacy than the magic of love.