The secret to a long life is…

This past Thursday was a special day for me and my family – my Ukrainian paternal grandfather Andrij (Gigi) turned 99 years old.

*cue “I got 99 problems but a Gigi ain’t one!!!” line that I always giggle at*

During this wonderful time, I want to share a bit of his life with you and what we can learn from all of his years on Earth.

With the exception of interviewing him for an assignment back in college, I never really knew much about my Gigi. Growing up, my sister and I were closer to our maternal grandfather Eugeniusz (Jadzi) because we were his only grandkids in the province and as my dad noted to me, by the time my sister and I came around, he and my paternal grandmother were ready to hang up their boots as grandparents – my three older cousins were more or less raised by them and their wired energy were all the grandchildren they wanted to handle.

What I could tell from the outside growing up, Andrij is one of those strong, silent types whose life was shaped from a life of hardship and labour. What I ended up learning was far more than I expected.

In his 20’s, he ran away from the Secret Service to his village in the Ukraine because he escaped from a labour job that he realized he was never going to be able to leave from. The SS unfortunately caught up to him and he became a WWII prisoner of war. He survived five concentration camps across Poland and Germany before being placed in a displaced person camp for a year when the war was officially over (I still can’t believe he found out WWII was over when he and a group of men were walking in the woods and a tank just drives up towards them, thinking it was the Russians but it was an American Red Cross rep saying “Don’t worry! The war is over! Come to the camp in the nearby village!”). While in the DP camp, an agent from Canada asked if he wanted to leave and come work in a country literally across the world away from everything he knew, speaking a language he didn’t know for a promise for a better life that he wasn’t even sure was coming.

Once he arrived in Canada, he held a variety of manual labour jobs such as chopping trees and picking berries, but spent most of his working years being a brick layer and a janitor at the University of Manitoba. Thanks to a friend who set him up on a blind date with a pretty lady named Pearl who had also immigrated to Canada from Ukraine after the war (whom my middle name is after) they got married and they created a life together raising three kids – my Chocia Helen (aunt in Ukrainian), my dad, and my Chocia Mary, or Marusia as I know her.

Although we weren’t close, I was still fascinated by him. One of my favourite memories growing up was when he and Eugeniusz would sit in the far corner together at family gatherings and talk. While everyone else was having their own conversations, they would be speaking and smiling to each other in their native tongue (Andrij in Ukrainian and Eugeniusz in Polish) and because the two languages are somewhat similar, they understood each other.

My whole perspective changed about my Gigi during his 90th birthday.

Up until then we didn’t make a big fuss about his birthday but this one was different because hey, the man was turning 90! How many more birthdays do we have? (A lot, it turns out). Funny enough, his birthday that year landed right on the Sunday so we all went to the church he belongs to and towards the end of the service, the priest acknowledged his birthday. Afterwards, everyone was invited to the church basement for a special birthday lunch. From usually only seeing him in his home with family, it was really sweet to see him smile as he greeted all of the parishioners and friends who stuck around for his birthday celebration.

I was eating lunch with my family in this long table in the basement when my dad, the natural MC for the event, starts to talk and thanks everyone for coming. He turns it to my grandfather to make a speech.

I had never seen him speak so happily or for so long in my entire life.

The speech was all in Ukrainian so in the beginning I was asking my Chocia Helen, “What is he saying now? What about now?” (to which she reluctantly answered), and then after it got a bit awkward, I simply sat and enjoyed his speech, not understanding a single thing.

Seeing the audience laugh at his jokes and hearing him speaking so clearly, in comparison to his broken English that I was so used to, caused a massive swelling of joy in my heart because I got to see him in one of his primes, with the community that’s been with him for so many years, celebrating an accomplishment that millions of people never get to see.

He’s since made more long 10-15 minute speeches with a bit more English mixed in but since that 90th birthday, he has become a kinder and softer person. Once a harden man who used to shush me for laughing too hard at the dinner table was now looking at me when my dad made a silly comment and we giggle together, as if it’s our own secret joke. He’s also more open now to sharing stories of his past, sometimes even unprovoked, like the story of how he met my grandmother or stories of his childhood. It was during one of those times that I learned that his father died when he was nine and he had to drop out of school in the 3rd grade to help take care of his family.

The crazy thing is, if he had left this Earth earlier, even in his 80’s (which would have still been a life well-lived), I wouldn’t have gotten to know these stories. More importantly, I wouldn’t have gotten to see a happier and calmer version of my grandfather who was plagued by grief at an early age and overcame trauma that I genuinely hope none of us ever see in our lifetimes.

I share this all to say while yes, this is an absolutely wonderful story of openness and acceptance, but it’s also one of caution of how we can choose today to live moving forward.

Share those stories with the people you love, today.

Don’t wait until you’re 90 to tell people how much you appreciate them or how much they mean to you.

Yes, I’m so thankful to have an almost centenarian for a grandfather but he’s also my last living grandparent, with two of them passing in the 2010’s and one passed before I was born.

These stories we share, regardless if you believe it today, are far more important than you realize. His stories in part shape me via my dad and it feels so good to still have a living, breathing window into this fascinating life.

As we head into the rest of this newsletter and into our days, I figured I probably should let you in on the answer to the biggest question I’m sure you’re wondering – What’s the secret to living so long?

We’ve asked Gigi this many times in which he shrugs his shoulders and makes a questioning face, not sure how to answer. We all have theories but I think my favourite answer is the one I gave my sister:

“Alex, his secret to longevity is cold cuts and God!”

Sometimes, you just need the Lord and a good cut of salami to make it through this crazy life.