Lubomyr Holyk

My Dad
My Father passed away on Thursday, April 23rd, 2015. It is early Sunday, 5 am and I wanted to put my thoughts to paper and tell my Dad’s story, from my perspective.
Growing up, we didn’t know much about my Dad’s childhood or his early teenage years. He was Ukrainian, a heritage that he was very proud of. He was the 3rd of 4 boys, they didn’t have much growing up during the war. He left home in his early teens, pretty much just walked out of the country with a group of young men – really boys at the time. They walked across the country at night, sleeping in barns during the day. They all didn’t make it through, my Dad did. He eventually joined the English Army, he lied about his age. Not sure even how that happened, how he survived – he left his parents, brothers and friends and never looked back till years later.
When he was stationed in England, he met my mom, she was only 13 and he was 18. It was love at first sight. We often teased my Dad later that my mom was just a child when they met, to his defense, he said she looked beyond her years, tall and beautiful, he was smitten. They wrote letters to each other, it was difficult for them both as they never spoke each other’s language. My mom was English and my Dad, Ukrainian. My mom would write to my Dad and he would have his army buddies translate what he wanted to say. He would send her pictures; you know the old tiny ones in black and white, of him as he traveled through Egypt and Palestine. As we will look at those pictures now, he was just a boy.
When my Dad returned to England, my mom was 16 and they married. Not in a church as she was Anglican and he was Greek Orthodox, just before a justice of the peace. My parents lived in England and had three daughters, Ann, Pauline and Christina (that’s me). When I was two my parents decided to move to have a better life as many other Europeans did at that time. They had a choice of Australia and Canada, as my mom felt Canada was closer, we came here. Three young girls in tow, with another on the way, my mom was pregnant with my youngest sister Yvonne, when they travelled across the ocean by boat.
My dad had family in Waterdown, Auntie Pearl, Auntie Sophie and some cousins; his favorite was his cousin Fran. My mom had no family in Canada. She had left her mom, her sister and her brothers in England. When we first came we settled in Brantford. My Dad worked on a turkey farm. When my mom went to the hospital to have my youngest sister, I stayed with my dad on the farm while my older sisters stayed with his aunt. One of my favorite pictures is one my Dad took of me at that time, standing amongst of field of turkeys. When I was little, my Dad said I never left his side. Today, that picture is amongst my collection in my family room along with many of my parents and sisters when were small combined with my husband, Kevin’s family.
My parents moved to Clarkson, south Mississauga, our first home there was a little white house which backed onto the railway tracks and close to the post station. I remember walking to the post station around the corner and bringing home pamphlets and flyers – which my mom promptly made us take back. My father saved enough money to buy our first house, a 4 bedroom semi-detached newly built home at 2166 Wiseman Court. That’s where we grew up and stayed until each of the 4 daughters left home when we married. I remember my dad telling me the house cost $6,000. He didn’t have enough for the down payment but the bank manager at BNS, Mrs. Barns, lent him the money. He never forgot that was told us often how wonderful she was for taking a chance on a young family with 4 girls to feed.
My Dad was a licensed Millwright; he went back to school to earn his papers and was proud to say he was never out of work. He worked for many companies, each time he would get laid off – he would find another job by the next day.
When my Dad retired, all the girls were married and living in their own homes. My parents decided to sell and move to Brampton, this is where I live with my husband and our three boys. I was very lucky to have my parents close throughout my live. When James and Bryan were little, my mom watched them while I worked. When Stephen came along, three boys were too much for her and I made other arrangements. I saw my parents every week, sometimes multiple times. They spent a lot of time with us; my parents came to our son’s games – whether it was hockey, baseball or lacrosse. Dad often took my youngest Stephen to his practices and games, they had a special bond.
My parents were huge on family get togethers, every grandchild’s birthday (they had 9 grandsons – Brandon, Robbie, Mark and Danny are Pauline and her husband Bruce’s, Kevin and my three boys and Yvonne’s son’s Daniel and Christopher) and their one and only granddaughter Rebecca (Becky), Ann and Charlie’s daughter (who just had her first baby yesterday afternoon) . We were always together for every Christmas, most often Easter and Thanksgiving as well. They loved being with their daughters and our families. My sister-in-law Pat just said to me on Saturday that she doesn’t remember a family party at our house that didn’t include my parents, and there were many.
My mom passed away on July 23rd, 2012 and I still miss her every day. Our first granddaughter Kaiya (James and his wife Kimmy‘s) was the only great grandchild she had a chance to meet. My Dad got to meet our second, Emma as well as my sister Pauline’s first granddaughter, Danika (Brandon and Amanda’s). Mom got to attend Bryan and Stephanie’s wedding before she died, a memory we all have that she loved being part of. Before she passed away, we celebrated my parents 60th Wedding Anniversary at my Dad’s church, St. Elias, where their priest and friend of 25 years, married them in the church, Father Roman. It meant a lot to my parents to renew their vows and finally be married in a church. My dad had met Father Roman, at a garage sale, funny enough, when they lived in their first home in Brampton. They formed a wonderful friendship which returned my father to church on a regular basis.
Since my mom passed away, I know my Dad missed her every day. He was lonely and heartbroken. I find comfort in the fact that they are together again, holding hands as they watch over us all. My family is very fortunate to have had and loved two wonderful parents and my memories of them both will carry me thorough out my years. Love You Mom and Dad.