О дедушке (En)

Написала тут несколько дней назад о дедушке по-английски (7 января был день его рождения) — впервые решила для себя, что пора попробовать писать о каких-то важных и значимых вещах примерно так, как я это делаю на русском.

***

Dedushka (my Grandpa) would’ve turned 99 today.

He and my Babushka (Nana) were the reason that I still believe—and will always do—in real family love and support.

The early years of Dedushka’s life were hard and volatile: a Ukrainian orphan, whose parents were killed under War Communism*, he grew up in a children’s home, then worked unbelievably long hours to become an apprentice at the factory, and later, the best factory worker, and then, a qualified foreman.

Later, after the war (he worked as a first-class specialist at one of the military factories on Ural, basically 24/7 with brief breaks for sleep) he decided to dedicate himself to the development of the North. And that is how the polar part of our family history started.

He worked in the tundra, at the seaport Tiksi, where the winter temperatures went as low as -60 C (-75 F). He never complained and never claimed the special benefits he was due for being the heroic human being whom he surely was.

Ded was tough and could give you the impression of being too strong and fierce—and he definitely could be like that if someone attempted to offend him or hurt his family. Big, big mistake, which an offender would remember for the rest of their miserable life.

He was also that type of great man who would never demonstrate his strength openly, but would carry on modestly, with the greatest dignity.

He loved his children—my Mum and her younger brother, my uncle—wholeheartedly: he loved his grandchildren madly. He was always there for me when I was a little girl: the most precious memories of my childhood are connected with him being my best friend and companion for silly games and trips to the steppe near the river Dnieper, where we picked thyme in the spring and hawthorn berries/rosehips in the late autumn.

With his love and friendship, I always knew that I’d been protected by the best guardian ever.

Even in his late eighties, after my Babushka’s death, when he was left alone for the first time in his life, after 56 happy years with her, his handshake was still strong and his eyes were full of stamina, but also deep sorrow.

Now, I understand that all my trips to him from Moscow were that kind of precious life moments that I will never forget.

Happy Birthday, my dearest. I will always love and remember you.

___________________

*also known as Military Communism, the economic and political system, which existed in the early years of the Soviet Union during the Civil War (1918—1921)