She insisted everyone refer to her simply as “Anyu”.

A life-long friendship begins

She and I had met in 1979, in Buffalo N.Y. at the apartment she shared with her husband, my future father-in-law, Apu. It was love at first sight. She and I. We shared a penchant for herbal tea, shopping for our clothes at second hand stores, flower gardens, great food and walking in nature. There was a fineness to her that cannot be described in words, but was surely felt by all in her presence.

With Anyu, you were instantly wrapped in a blanket of warmth, kindness and then treated to her own brand of spirited humour. Born into an era when young ladies were encouraged to develop skill sets in music, athletics and managing a household, she could sing like an opera star, swim like an Olympian and host a roomful of strangers and family, alike with ease and comfort.

A swirl of cinnamon and brown sugar

During the festive season her little covered back porch in Buffalo New York, chilled by the winter air, became a mini European bakery. I loved to peek into the various containers. Each one carefully crafted and labeled. A bar, a cake, a swirl of cinnamon and brown sugar. The long tubes of poppy seed and walnut strudel were the most sought after by family members.

I had never tasted such delicacies. It was also my first introduction to Hungarian food. Chicken paprikash, layered cabbage, goulash, yellow bean soup. Exquisite. (Later when we lived together briefly, after my many failed attempts at replicating her recipes, she graciously took me under her wing and instructed me in the preparation of many of these dishes).

Alex and I married in 1980 in North Burlington with a small reception in my parent’s home for 50. Family members brought food. Anyu brought the wedding cake in a cooler driven all the way from Buffalo. She assembled the tiers perfectly in my Mom’s kitchen. What a marvel!

We visited Anyu and Apu, often, since it was a short drive from our apartment in Toronto. The routine was always the same. Dinner followed by a walk for the two of us around their Buffalo neighbourhood year-round.

Apu had been struggling with cancer for many years. During that time Anyu had taken up painting. One of those paintings is in the pic above on the left. When she became a widow, she returned to Southern Ontario, to live with her youngest son Lou and his family.

She was a nurturer. Plants thrived in her presence. I am pretty sure she talked to them daily. Speaking of talking. I would call her regularly. Occasionally life got busy and time passed between calls. Anyu had an undisclosed timeframe within which she expected to hear from you. If you had been remiss in checking in, she would call you and gently remind you that you needed to keep in touch.

She was a lady of decorum and class. However, in spite of her gentle nature, she didn’t hesitate to express her opinion if a situation displeased her. You never wanted to be on the receiving end of her wagging finger!

She had a nickname for me. It was Dancey.

Mother and Grandmother to us all

In 1986 we moved north of Toronto to an 1850 estate home on the river with a Viszla puppy and during my pregnancy with Sam. When living altogether didn’t work out, Anyu became a regular visitor usually staying overnight. She was there for the birth of both children. She was there in the hospital telling us how beautiful Samantha was. And when Alex was born, with respiratory distress syndrome, spending the first few weeks of his life in the neo-natal ward of Women’s College, Anyu was there reassuring us that he was a strong boy and would be just fine.

Alex Sr. immediately took on the renovation and restoration of the estate home. Anyu was often enlisted in either a demolition or clean up task. I still recall she and I tackling the removal of dusty and dated wallpaper from the 16 x 32 entryway using a rental steamer with both of us taking turns on the ladder.

Swimming in the backyard pool, digging in the gardens, loving us all unconditionally. Cheering us all on individually. She would bring her friends to visit. They became family too.

She kept in close contact with all of the families of her three living sons as well as the family of her late son. She travelled ~ to Portugal, China, Hawaii and of course to Hungary. Returning with two of her grandchildren on one trip.

As time passed my love and my respect for Anyu only grew stronger. She became my “Mom” and my mentor. Our conversations were always deep and unfiltered. Little bits and pieces of Anyu’s life before we met, spilled out from time to time. Sometimes painful and harrowing memories were shared. She offered only a glimpse though, and then would fall silent.

I marvelled at her strength and resilience. Of her six children, only three were still alive when we met.

What I didn’t know then is that I would come to rely on that strength and resilience many times in the years to come.

Then in January of 2004 Alex Sr. was diagnosed with an aggressive form of kidney cancer. Five and half weeks later he passed away.

It was her eyes that I sought on that final day in the hospital. I can’t imagine losing a fourth child but her focus, as always, was not on her pain but on the grief that the three of us felt.

It was her steadfast voice on the end of the telephone that carried me through many of those dark days.

It was knowing she was there that carried all three of us through many dark years. She told me countless times “Dancey you are strong”. She provided all of us with the strength we needed.

She believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.

Years later when Mr. Bill came into my life, and I moved to Northwestern Ontario, on our first visit back south, he had to pass the “Anyu” test, which he did with flying colours. Our yearly visits always included a day with her. We continued to chat regularly and she told me on more than one occasion, it was time to move back so we could see each other more often.

Soon we were moving to Chatham and we would be closer and we could fulfill that wish. Samantha and Alex had always made regular visits ~ she was particularly interested I suspect in hearing of their individual and collective travels ~ especially their joint trip through Hungary and Austria.

Then COVID happened.

She was now 96 and vulnerable

She was now 96 and vulnerable. Lou lived down the hall and advised she was not to have visitors. Even he was cautious and would check in on her from the doorway of her apartment.

She and I talked on the phone. There was sadness in her voice. This was a woman who never missed a day of walking. She had taken to walking the halls with her walker so she could escape the confines of her apartment. She sounded weary. She expressed the same sentiment to Sam and Alex. She had survived a heart attack years earlier, and a recent fall and I could hear the vulnerability in her voice.

Her freedom and her independence now restricted by a foe she could not see ~ mesmerized and frightened by the daily news reports of illness and death she was seeing on her television.

When it appeared that life was slowly coming back to some semblance of normalcy, Lou and his wife decided to get away to a cottage for a short vacation. In his absence Bill the eldest son arranged with his wife to come and stay in Lou’s apartment to keep an eye on Anyu. Shortly after dinner one night she fell silent and motioned she was in distress. She was having a stroke.

In the hospital afterwards, she was lucid but unable to eat or drink and was in a great deal of discomfort. She could only communicate with a pencil and a clipboard. She declined whatever medical procedure would attempt to restore her ability to eat, knowing that there was no guarantee of success and a long period of recuperation in an assisted living facility would necessarily follow.

Samantha, Alex and I each had an opportunity to sit with her before she passed. During my visit, unable to speak, her eyes spoke to me. She told me she loved me. She motioned to the ceiling and mouthed that she would say hello ~ and I knew to whom she was referring. She passed away quietly a couple of days after we three had spent time with her.

To this day I think of her often and feel a mixture of pain and strength. Her legacy lives on in all of her remaining children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. I am especially grateful for the time my children were able to spend with her. Their private moments will always be their private treasure. Just as my memories will always be mine.

I love you Anyu ~ until we see each other again……

Donna

~ Be bold, be authentically you!