dariad
New User
Joined: 13 Aug 2007
Posts: 7
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 Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2008 12:17 pm Post subject: Helen Danko 10/12/22 - 09/26/07 (Colon Cancer) |
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I had a lot of trouble writing this eulogy. Not just because the loss of my mother is so painful, but also because she was such an amazing woman that I had no idea how to begin.
Being a modern woman, I immediately went to the Internet and googled “eulogy”, trying to find a starting point. And I guess I found one, because the one thing it told me was that a eulogy is not a biography, but a personal note on the life of the person in question.
So here’s my personal take on the remarkable woman who was my mother.
Mum was an extremely talented and creative person. An excellent seamstress, she created all her own – and my – clothes. I remember matching poodle skirts in the 50’s, a turquoise shot silk coat AND matching pillbox hat (a la Jackie Kennedy) in the 60’s, shantung pantsuits in the 70’s and comfortable polyester suits in the 80’s. She was always a bit of a fashion plate, my mother, and gave me two essential pieces of advice: your handbag must always match your shoes, and never wear white after Labour Day. I remember the box of remnants she always had in the basement under the stairs. If I was going out on the weekend, she’d haul out the box on Thursday, let me pick a piece of fabric and I’d have a new outfit to wear on Saturday. And you know, stupid me? I HATED it. I could hardly wait to grow up and BUY clothes off the rack like my friends. Turns out I was one of the best-dressed girls in high school and I never knew it or appreciated it. She could sew everything from fashions to slip covers. Her creativity knew no bounds and she would be at her sewing machine daily, listening to Betty Kennedy on CFRB and turning out yet another outfit.
Mum also had a flair for interior design. She painted or wallpapered everything in sight. We used to laugh at her and say “don’t stand still, Mum will either paint you or cover you”. Dad would come home from business trips and scratch his head………..”wasn’t that room blue when I left 3 days ago? “ or “ What the HELL have you done to the bathroom?” But over the years she created warm and inviting environments where our friends were always welcome and she could host a party with pride.
She was a gourmet cook, always willing and wanting to experiment with food. She loved recipe books; clipped recipes from magazines and newspapers. She’d read a recipe and say to herself “that sounds good”. Dad, Phil and I soon learned to tell her we liked whatever concoction she came up with, because to say we did NOT was to invite it back to the table. She was always convinced that the recipe could be tweaked to make it acceptable to her family. On the other hand, if we REALLY liked something, the only way to see it again was to say “no” to it. She’d keep “tweaking” until she felt it was right, then out it went and something new turned up. The one thing she kept trying to introduce was a dish she loved from HER childhood. Called Koulasha in Ukrainian, it was a corn meal pudding sort of thing. For Mum it was comfort food, for the rest of us, torture. She tried several times to put it on the table under the gourmet name of Italian polenta, West African fufu and lord only knows what else. One bite and Dad’s inevitable reaction was “I don’t care what YOU call it, it’s still koulasha!” We nicknamed her the “Koulasha Kid”.
Our table was always full. Whether with 2 or 3 big strapping friends of my brother’s who’d casually drop in for breakfast, English girlfriends of mine who’d get their first taste of exotic food like perogies, or 6 course dinners for Dad’s business associates and friends, Mum’s cooking was famous. She was a great baker as well and the cookie tins were always full of goodies. When she returned to Canada, the first thing I made her do was bake me cookies! Mum liked to cook because Mum liked to eat. She also had a very famous (or infamous) sweet tooth and would never order dinner until she had checked out the dessert menu. Ya gotta love a woman who thinks chocolate is an essential food group!
While not classically educated, Mum got a University-equivalent education reading for blind university students. That was the thing about Mum. She was always doing something for somebody. She read archeology, anthropology and biology textbooks. She visited museums and art galleries. She loved theatre and music. And she read. Oh my, how she read. I never remember a time when she did not have a good book going. And she instilled that love of reading in me at a very early age. She’d read anything with print on it, but loved a good historical fiction. Not the “torn bodice” type, but a well-researched, fact-filled book about the ancient world and the people who made history.
She could talk with anyone and was very interested in other people’s lives. She was a fearless traveler, always eager for new adventures. She often traveled with my Dad on business and would cheerfully take off on her own all day, while Dad slaved away in meetings. She attended Greek weddings (uninvited), Fijian masses (she wasn’t Catholic) and sat in on innumerable university lectures in cities around the world. She had an insatiable curiosity about the world and its peoples. Her bag was always packed and she was ready to go anywhere at a moment’s notice.
She was fiercely proud of her Ukrainian heritage and tried to instill in us the same pride. Which was not an easy sell all the time. In an era when girls were called Peggy or Betty or Margaret or Elaine, Daria Constancia tended to stick out like a sore thumb. “Call me Connie”, I’d wail. “Why on earth would you want a boring name like that”? she’d ask. “Daria means Gift From God and has a long history” (here she’d insert a 15 minute lecture about the etymology of my name) while my Dad would be muttering “you mean goddamn gift”.
While in Australia, she served as President of the Ukrainian Ladies Auxiliary and was elected to serve on the State of New South Wales Council for the Statues of Women. She had a Ukrainian radio program in Australia, writing her own scripts and choosing her own music. While she had been the quintessential corporate wife and 50’s mother, her feminine consciousness was raised when Dad moved her to Australia in 1976. She later told me she did not realize how good Canadian women had it in the world, compared to Australian women. She was never reconciled to the outrageous chauvinism she encountered in Australia. My mother the feminist……….in her 60s!
Mum took her parenting responsibilities very seriously. In our early days, my Dad was a commercial traveler and was away from home a lot. Phil and I learned quickly who the REAL authority in our house was………..mother! By the time we were toddlers, we recognized her “death stare” from 50 paces and knew to stop IMMEDIATLEY whatever it was we were up to. I soon learned what “I’ll give you something to cry about” meant when I whined. Mum was full of admonitions and advice. “There’s nothing as dead as a dead romance” came out when a boyfriend dumped me, “and if Margie jumped off a cliff would you jump too?” – this when I wanted to do something my friend was allowed to do but was strictly forbidden in our house. Probably her most famous phrase had to do with marriage. When my own first marriage went south, it was a confusing and hurtful time for both my parents. But when their friends’ children and then their FRIENDS started to split, my mother was astounded. She just did not understand people not “working it through”. She and Dad met when they were 12 years old, never dated anyone else and were married 63 years. If that’s not stick-to- itiveness, nothing is! Her credo about marriage? “Murder yes, divorce never”.
Mum never wanted to be friends with her children as she felt that we would have many friends, but that she had a job to do as a mother and by god she was going to do it. And oh, how we locked horns! When she was dying, we talked about those years. About how we drove each other crazy and how it often felt like we provoked each other just for the heck of it. And how glad we were that we’d both grown up and were good friends now. And we were. And for that I will be eternally grateful.
Mum was absolutely an optimist. She had many sorrows in her life, including the untimely death of her only son in 1981, but she just never let the world get her down. She always found a way of making a negative a positive. She was a woman who was always full of hope. For herself, her family and the world at large.
I missed her, those 28 years my parents were in Australia. I was so glad when they came back 2 ½ years ago. She got to know her fabulous grandchildren and her equally fabulous great-grandchildren. She got all new stuff. I think this was the biggest thrill of her life – new stuff. She’d often say that people she knew had period furniture….French provincial or Queen Anne…………….she had period furniture too……”early depression”. She got an automatic dishwasher (not a kid who automatically got up and did the dishes)! She picked sofas and chairs and bed linens. She bought dining, coffee and end tables. Oh my, she had a ball! She got out the sewing machine and immediately made matching pillows and drapes. She got involved with the choir at Luther Village. She made friends here. She bought season tickets to the KW Symphony. She arranged a trip to Tunisia, so she could walk the ancient roads of Carthage. When I asked her if she was happy with their new home she said, “it’s so wonderful that if I complained, it would be a sin”
She was only 5’2”, but that small frame was packed with energy and humour. She had a smile that would light up a room and she used it readily. She was generous with her time and talent and genuinely cared about people. She had such a zest for life that when she got the news about her terminal illness, her only comment was “damn, I’m not ready – we still haven’t made that Rhine River trip or spent New Year’s Eve in Vienna or gone to Newfoundland. I’m not afraid of dying”, she said, “but I’m just not READY. I have too many things yet to do and see.”
Well ready or not, cancer took her at the tender age of 84 ½. It wasn’t a pretty way to die and I am grateful that in the end it went quickly. When she got so sick that she no longer could cook or sing in the choir or work in her garden plot, she WAS ready to go.
I am grateful that Helen Danko was MY mother. She taught me much. She loved me fiercely. She chided me frequently. I have her ashes at home and I have to tell you that this is the first time in 58 years that when I talk to her, she doesn’t talk back! She was a damn good mother and one hell of a woman. I’ll miss her. |
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zinger
Experienced user
Joined: 09 Jun 2008
Posts: 65
Location: SE Michigan, USA
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| Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2008 4:19 pm Post subject: Re: Helen Danko 10/12/22 - 09/26/07 (Colon Cancer) |
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Here's to your Mom for a life well lived! I just had to smile as I read your story, as I'm sure you did while writing it. What a wonderful legacy your Mom left you, to live your life to the fullest and then some! Her lessons here were fulfilled and her job here completed. God bless her!
Cathy
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Dad ~ lung cancer diagnosed Dec 18, 2003, passed Mar 3, 2004.
Mom ~ lung cancer diagnosed May 27, 2008, passed June 1, 2008
They're waltzing once again... |
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