My 4 Grandfathers shaped Me

I am very fortunate because I had four strong and gentle grandfathers that loved me. I learned from them when my mind was plastic and influenced for life. When I look back now, I understand more why I am the way I am and why I grieve so much.

When I was a young boy I was already sensitive and caring. Thinking about who my grandfathers were and how they influenced me helps me realize where this all came from. First how did I have 4 grandfathers? My parents divorced and both remarried and I was gifted with another set of grandfathers.

Hector

My father's father was Hector. He died of cancer when I was just 4 years old. I don't really remember him but I am told that he loved me very much. Before his hospital stay, he played with me at his house. They tell me that he lit up and loved me more than anything. He lived in Edmonton and we lived in Toronto so we only visited a few times. In our last visit they tell me he was dying but held off for a few days knowing that I was coming to visit. They say he lived for me. This love, this gentleness was accepted into my subconscious before I even knew. My grandfather Hector left me his house in his will.

My grandfather Hector met my grandmother Julia at a dance in a small village in Ukraine. He offered to walk her home to her farm. At their third walk home, he stopped and faced her and asked, " Do you like me? Will you marry me?". My grandmother told me she hardly knew him but he seemed a stong honest person and very direct.

Alexander

My mother's father lived until I was in my 20's and he was in his 90's. He was born in 1898. I know much more about my grandfather Alexander because I got to spend much more time with him. When I was very young we went for walks everyday and we often were up at 7 am having breakfast in the quiet morning just the two of us. He cooked an egg for me in a small fry pan only big enough for one egg. His gentleness and his strength and compassion seeped into me with the time that I spent with him at an age where my brain was still pastic.

There were also many stories I heard from my grandfather and from my mother about him. All of these stories influenced me so much that he has always been my most influencial person and mentor in my life. I guided my decsions based on what would my grandfather do.

My grandfather was one of 7 boys. He was selected by his family as the one son they could affort to send to school and the other brothers worked to pay for him. The story was that when he came home with poor grades, he was beaten by all his brothers for not working hard enough. He went back and finished his law degree.

As a lawyer, my grandfather worked for the poor that could not affort lawyers. He became a member of parliament and gave weekly speeches from his second story balcony at his office in Ukraine. During the war, he used his influence to smuggle supplies to his Jewish friends across town.

He met my grandmother Stephania and was so in love that he told her he would kill himself if she didn't marry him. When she told me the story she said that she liked him and didn't want to see him waste a life, so she married him. My grandfather loved my grandmother forever and all I remember is how much he showed his love and adoration for her, how he always talked so sweetly to her and always kissed her when he saw her even when they were really old.

Some of the war stories that I was told were awful. On his wedding day he was arrested by the Polish army when war broke out and not only did he miss his wedding night with my grandmother, but he spent the next two years in a Polish jail. He also told me of some of the atrosities of war. When he was yound, war was fought with swords, one against another. A young man fell to his knees infront of my grandfather and pleaded to spare his life saying that he had a wife and two children. While my grandfather stopped another soldier came up and with one swoosh took off the young man's head.

My mother tells me that these wars were fought for self preservation and not with anger toward another. They were fought person to person.

My mother told my a few more stories. She told me that he was not always so smart. When his captain told him to lay down and keep his head down, he stood up because he wanted to see where the shooting was coming from. When he stood up he got shot in the top of his leg. My grandfather told me he didn't know he got shot but started to feel warm blood going down his leg. My mother said he was lucky that it went right through and out the other side. In hospital beside my grandfather was a young wounded man. He saw this young man and his fiance crying uncontrollably because the young man was going to be sent back to the front the next day. My grandfather had two more weeks to recover but he volunteered to take this young man's place and go to the front.

My grandfather as a member of parliament and a lawyer became wealthy and owned a big house with servants. When the Germans occupied the land, he walked down the front steps with his family and nothing else and they went into German camps where they would be for 3 years. My mother speaks fluent German. They immigrated to Canada and he took a job as a house painter in Edmonton. When a fellow worked recognized him with his cap down and asked, he replied with, "yes, see what a member of parliament does in Canada?". Later my grandfather in his older years moved to Toronto and got a job as a clerk in an oil company. I always respected that having and losing everything  did not change my grandfather and when I told him this was my biggest respect that he was unaffected by losing everything, he said that this happened twice in his life that he just walked away from everything,

When my grandfather was dying at my mother's home, she said she saw him sit up in bed and reach his arms out as if he saw something. She believes he was reaching out to his wife, my grandmother who had died 20 years before him. He loved only her until he could see her again n the next world. That night he left a handwritten note beside his bed that said, Canada is his home. Canada has done more for him than his homeland Ukraine ever did.

Today, I type on my laptop on the desk that my grandfather wrote with a fountain pen on every night when he came home from work.

Stephan

My step father Ostap's father was my stepgrandfather. He lived in Ukraine with his wife on their farm until she died. Then he left everything and came to Canada to live with his son and my mother. He loved his wife very much and he wrote a poem about missing her. In his poem he mentioned walking around and wondering where she has gone to, then saw "oh over there you are in the frame of a picture" and then he would smile. He was a gentle and happy man. He would get on the bus to go exploring and somehow find his way home. The bus drivers in Toronto let him on free and he kept the address where he lived in his jacket pocket.

Once at the University of Toronto, I walked into the newly finished and very impressive Robarts Library. In the attrium right in the middle of all the young students husling around stood an old small man. I looked over and recognized him as my step grandfather. I went up to him and he was not phased to see me. He just smiled and was happy.

My step grandfather found it strange that in Canada we eat potatoes with the peel still on them. He said that he was poor but never that poor that he had to eat the skins of the potatoes. He brought my mother flowers that he picked from outside. Under his bed, my mother found a large stash of partial napkins. He found it wasteful the way we used only a part of the napkin then threw it away.

Robert Paterson

My stepmother Roberta's father was my Scottish step grandfather, a very handsome man with a beaming smile who looked like a young Sean Connolly as the young James Bond. We used to visit when I was young almost every weekend and spent major holidays with my stepmother's parents and family. Get togethers with them were always happy with everyone drinking highballs and smoking cigarrettes. I remember the room so full of smoke that you couldn't see the other side. But what I remember more is the smile my step grandfather greated us with every time we saw him. I remember how much he loved and cared for his wife Ella. He treated her with the greatest respect and I remember him jumping up when she asked "Bobbie" to go do something or get something for her. He never complained nor did I ever see him in a bad mood. He was always positive and supportive.

My step grandfather Robert was sick with cancer but he didn't tell anyone. When the pain became too much he checked into the hospital where they found it all over his body and he died within two weeks. I remember our last Christmas together when I saw that he was trying but something was distracting him.

When I think of my step grandfather Robert all I have is huge respect. He was a man who loved his wife, who was always positive and smiling and who respected and supported everyone.

My Great Uncle Michael

My father's uncle Michael was the head water at the Waldorf Estoria in New York in its most popular days. He was in charge of arranging banquets with a staff of 200 waiters. I remember him always with a big smile and happy to see us. When we drove to New York to his country cottage and arrived at 2:30 am, he greeted us with bread and butter and coffee and served us. I will always remember this service, this pleasure he had to serve us, this smooth loving service and I understand what a skill and feeling it is to truly serve someone. I remember walking into packed theater halls and he would talk to someone then we were ushered to the front where two large tables were being set up for us very quickly. And all I saw was him gently smile.

My uncle Michael was visiting Ukraine and when he returned he found out that his wife Stephania had died alone in their New York apartment and that she had laid on the floor dead for three days before someone found her. This devastated him because he loved her more than anything. They owned the entire building but lived a meager life with just their little white dog that was so ugly that it was adorable. It looked like a large rat with scruffy hair. But he loved that dog and carried it in his arms everywhere. My aunt Stephania was a real character. With long pitch black hair, her stunning beauty contrasted her harsh voice that belted out the most vulgar obscenities I'd ever heard. Swearing worse that a truck driver, she yelled at him and called him names and all he did was smile lovingly. They were both very much in love and he worshipped her.

Shortly after at age 73 my uncle Michael got cancer. At the hospital he told me that life was not worth anything. I understood what he meant. He also told me that he did not leave me anything in his will because he knew that I didn't need it. He left everything for his brother and my father. Him telling me this was one of the biggest compliments I have ever received, it was a belief that I would make my own way and not need any help. That was worth much more than any money to me. Plus the example of how much he loved his wife, his dog and his family.

Just before he died, my uncle wrote his own ulogy. He asked me to read it at his funeral. I stood up and gave his ulogy to a huge fully packed church in New York. In it he mentioned his thanks.

My Uncle Bohdan Feduschak

My mother's sister's husband, my uncle Bohdan was a handsome blue-eyed blond tall man with a golden tan. He moved from Toronto to Denver where he took care of his family until the end. I say this because he knew he was dying of Malinoma a skin cancer and he did everything to try to set his family up to survive indepently without him. He loved his wife, my aunt Zdana who was a very colorful free spirited artistic person. I visited with my uncle just two weeks before he died and we talked alot then. Once I had to drive him to the hospital at night because he turned grey and couldn't breathe. He had ashma and had to sit up in bed all night. My last picture in my head that will stay forever was his great big wide smile as he said goodbye to me as I was getting on the bus to leave, both of us knowing that this was the last time we would see each other.

All Together

Looking back I see the strong common threat that shaped who I am today. These men who influenced me were all quietly strong, loving, devoted, compassionate men. Not one of them worshipped money or was loud or egotistical. They were quietly strong, consistant and gentle. Family waa most important to them. They respected and supported others. Each separately helped shape my character in my early years with the strongest examples of what a good person should be like.

I haven't even begun to write about my stepfather Ostap and the huge quiet example he was in his life of love, caring and support. I can't think of a kinder man who stood by me even when I was wrong. Or, my stepmother who did the best she could to prepare me for the outside world, who loved me as her own son. I lost my stepfather to lung disease and watched him slowly suffocate. His last words to me in the hospital were, "You're a good man". My step mother fought breast cancer for 16 years before it went into her lymph nodes and lungs. Her last words to me while she could still talk in the hospital were, "you are going to be alright". Her doctor a young beautiful blond lady told me that my stepmother was already half into the spirit world. This smart doctor told me stories in the cancer word that convinced her there was something after death. Her mother was a doctor as well and committed suicide. A few years later I heard that she committed suicide as well.  I sat peacefully with my stepmother after she died for three hours while her hand in my hand started losing heat. At her funeral service in church, I gave the strongest most powerfully emotional ulogy of my life.

Is it any wonder that I am who I am today? And is it any wonder that Kuma was a loving, gentle and caring being who never was angry and never harmed anything except her squeaky toys. I am definately not taking credit for who Kuma was because a lot of that she was born with and some she got from the caring her mother gave her. But, Kuma was a reflection of me and I was a reflection of who she was. When she died I lost that part of myself. That part of myself that was being built for years and shared with her.

Today in the mirror in my face I see all my grandfathers and their grandfathers before them. In my skin I see the history of how I was made. I see them all standing behind me. I am all of them. And, with all of their love, I love. With all of their kindness and compassion, I feel deeply and I care.