Yiayia Roula - always by my side

 

If anybody asked me until now, how I would describe my Yiayia Roula, I would respond “katsarida” (cockroach). To which, everyone looked disgusted and with a question mark on their face. The explanation is simple: I read somewhere that in a global nuclear disaster the only creatures that would survive would be the cockroaches…and my Yiayia! It was a joke clearly with a dose of pride about the strength and calibre of this woman.

Trust her, thus, to survive 2020; one of the most difficult years of modern humankind and say goodbye to us the third day of the new year.

My relationship with her was in a way separated in three periods: my childhood years up to my parents’ separation when I was 5 years old, the years that I was at school and she was in South Africa, and the last 14 years that we have both been in South Africa.

Or in other words: Roula and little Roulitsa; Roula without Roula; and Roula and Roula periods.

 

Roula and little Roulitsa

She was my caregiver and although as a little one I don’t remember much of her, I remember a presence and a hug… and I remember her manicures (funny thing what one recalls from our childhood memories – and also why did I decide for the first time in my life to shape my own nails in that same almond shape only a few days ago?)

I look at the pictures of the two of us when I was a baby and I smile. In most of them, she doesn’t stand still. She is feeding me, or changing me or explaining something to me. A true representation of who she was: a person that takes care of others, especially¸ the kids of the family!

Roula without Roula

And the presence was not there anymore. And then with all the family around me, to be completely honest, I never really thought about it. It was a given for me, I didn’t know otherwise. The same period more or less that she left, my parents got separated, I changed schools, we moved to a new house and lets not forget a baby sister. Too many changes in life for a 6 year old to process. I attributed most of the anxiety of that period [in therapy many years later] to Yiayia leaving. It was easier after all to channel it to her because she wasn’t around. Maybe that was another mechanism I developed through the years to cope with my parents’ separation.

She wasn’t there to take me to school or come to my concerts. She didn’t know which food I liked and which not. She didn’t know if I did any sports and when I lost my front teeth. She didn’t know who was my first boyfriend and when I had a fight with my friends.

And mind you; during those times, communication and keeping contact was more challenging than now. My parents have a real relationship with their grandkids nowadays – technology made it easier for them. She came to visit for holidays a few times in this period. I have images in my mind of her running behind us and the cousins to finish our food at the village or cooking at my dad’s apartment or coming to have coffee with my mum and us at home.

 

Roula and Roula

And we reach the period that little Roulitsa finished school and undergraduate studies and came to join Yiayia Roula and the family in South Africa. And it was almost as if everything we haven’t lived together, we were together in pursuit of making more memories. Our rooms happened to be next to each other. I could hear her snoring at night and many nights we were going upstairs together to sleep.

She was there, present in all the important and everyday moments of my life thereafter. Even after I         moved to my own house to start my own family.

She was there when I arrived with my dad to be the hug in this challenging time of adjustment.

She was there when I was coming back from class with the same big hug to wait for me.

She was there when I was studying until late, pretending to watch TV while her eyes were closing      “ante kale I am not sleeping” (Do you remember, theia?)

She was there when after a small procedure on my toe, she offered to make loukoumathes (little doughnuts)…and from there onwards, whenever the family wanted loukoumathes, we would say my  foot is in pain…and she would giggle and still go and make, no matter the time: the more she could feed us, the happier she was.

She was there when I danced in my first (and only) ballroom show, a tango, with Schalk. Her smile at the end was the biggest gift.

She was there when I was struggling to make my first bellydance costume – she helped me with everything – such a talent with fabrics and clothes she had!\

She was there the evening I kissed Schalk (well not at the exact moment). The two of us, me and her, were watching a rugby game of Blue Bulls, drinking a savannah each (the cousins had friends over). And when I told her I will go out for a bit, she had that naughty smile and said «καλα να περασεις» - “enjoy” …as if she knew.

She was there when Schalk came at home for the first time and met the family («μα τι μαλλιας? Που τον βρηκε?» ...”oh that one with the long hair? Where did she find him?”

She was there when Schalk started visiting more often for dinners and coffees; and she wanted to feed him more and more [I will never forget the pinch on my thigh when Schalk felt comfortable enough to go and make his own coffee «που τον αφηνεις καλε τον ανθρωπο καλε? Που ξερει? Σηκω να του κανεις καφε» .... “where do you leave the guy alone? How does he know? Get up to make coffee”.

She was there when I bought my first car. I drove back home and she was the first one that I took on a ride (oh that smile she had).

She was there when I packed my things to move with Schalk. I remember I had asked some friends to come with me, as I knew she would get emotional…and she did. Crying because «εγω ηθελα να φυγει νυφουλα απο εδω» - “I was hoping she will leave this house as a bride”.

She was there at my Masters and PhD graduations – strong and with the biggest smile. She was there to hold me in her arms and she needn’t say much – she just looked me in the eyes and I knew.

She was there at my pre-wedding party and we danced the night away and she looked so happy to have all her kids and grandkids around her. Oh and sometimes, we don’t realise the moment when it happens but how blessed to have had her there with me.

She was there at my wedding, being so emotional especially when I was getting dressed and ready in her room. She finally saw I was coming out of the house as a bride. The moment when she gave me her present was one of the moments I will remember for the rest of my life. And again, we didn’t say much – we needn’t say much. Just the eyes and a hug.

Looking back now, I realise she was there even when she wasn’t.

 And as I am writing now, I realise that there was another period in my life with my Yiayia:

 

Roula and Roulakia

It is not easy to explain and one only grasps it after it passes but it is such a blessing to sit next to your Yiayia with your belly huge almost ready to pop and her touching it even if you talk about random things. I haven’t processed the power of the moment until now, the continuation of history in that moment.

The name of the first Roula-ki is almost a history of names of the male’s in Yiayia’s life: Dimitrios was her father and her husband and Theodoros her son and now her first great-grandson Dimitrios Theodoros (coming from her first grandkid with her own name….).

I remember when she came at the hospital to meet him, how she held him and the sparkle in her eyes when we told her he is eating well – true to her nature – feeding the kids is always a priority. And then the many visits with him and the giggles the two of them had, while playing. And during Easter, that she was carrying him around telling him stories. I am thankful that we raised our phone and captured those moments.

Next her situation deteriorated slightly. From the birth of Dimitri until the birth of Philippos, her mind got progressively confused – not gone but not quite there. I learned a lot about her life at the village listening to her during the (few admittedly) times we visited.

And then she held Philippos and we saw again that smile and that sparkle in her eyes. A child was born; the world has been again a more hopeful place for her. And she played with him and hugged him – although every now and then, the mind would take over and confused her: «αυτο, ποιανου ειναι;” … “this one, whose is it?”

Our (my) last memory of her was a praise to who she was exactly even if we didn’t know it at the time: we visited her on Mother’s day in 2019. No, I don’t think she knew who we were but her body that was calm showed that she knew there was love and a bond between us.

She held my hand tight throughout the visit, but her eyes were following the boys in the room, everywhere. Until they started singing and she left a sigh and a tear and she smiled:

Twinkle, twinkle little star

How I wonder where you are

Up above the world so high

Like a diamond in the sky…..