I just got news that my Aunt Zosya has passed away. That's her with her twin grandkids. She was by far my favorite old-country relative. I'm planning on visiting Ukraine this spring and was really looking forward to seeing her. Well, now I get to see everybody else. I guess I shouldn't be too upset. I mean, she was 77 - and that's way above normal life expectancy in Ukraine. And she had a tremendously hard life. She spent 10 years in a Siberian prison in the forties and fifties for being a kulak. She outlived two husbands and had one son, my cousin Arsen. Aunt Zosya was a cheerful soul, although like almost every Slavic woman, she could burst into tears without much prompting. She was curious about the outside world, which was an uncommon trait for those of her generation. She was always asking about American relatives and life. I told her what Belltown was like. She declared that she'd probably hate it and that she preferred farm life, because it was the only kind that she'd ever known. And so it was.
2 comments:
I'm sorry for your loss...it's a very similar story to my Grandfather's passing, and he would never live in the city.
My grat-grandmother was the same way: never left the farm, never wanted to. Something is lost when these folks pass. My condolences, Igor.
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