My own Kazakh grandma doesn’t remember her dad, who died in World War II. At that time, along with the death notice, some Soviet soldiers’ widows were given “consolation” gingerbread cookies for their kids. The only memory my grandma has of her dad is how she ate gingerbread cookies happily. I convinced my grandma and my mom to find my great-grandfather's mass grave in Poland, where he was buried. The three generations of women traverse the distance from Kazakhstan to Poland, not only to search for physical remains but also to restore the lost connection between themselves and discover post-colonial Soviet traumas.