In the mid-2000’s I had my dna researched by several services to see if/how they overlapped. It was no surprise to me to learn that my dna was mostly connected to Eastern Europe, with a fair amount in Western Europe. And through dna research, the websites offered the names of others who share some of the same dna. There are ways to walk back through the generations to discover the exact connections, although I have not ever done that.
Many of the folks who have their dna work completed do so and then disappear, their curiousity apparently satisfied. I had thought to possibly connect with others who were interested in meeting others. But for the most part, that thought was not satisfied. One day, however, a message appeared for me – from a distant, distant – distant relative, a cousin. He was from the same place in Ukraine that my grandparents were from (I’ve written about them, both illiterate, in other posts).
And so, through the magic of the Internet, I met Volodymyr. For several years, we stayed connected with numerous messages on Facebook. If I’d text him, he’d respond. In these days of internet connections, I consider that a miracle! We learned about one another’s politics – and agreed to simply disagree with no more conversation!
In August, Jeff and I made a trip we look forward to each year. In the months leading up to our few days away with Rainier, Lia, and Celeste, who live in Seattle, we talk about places we’d like to see. This year, we traveled from our home in Oakland to Seattle by plane, and then we drove two cars from Seattle to Vancouver, B.C. Vancouver, where my cousin Volodymyr lives with his wife, Olesia, who had lately returned from a visit to Ukraine. In some (covoluted) way, Rainier is also related to Volodymyr.
Jeff and I, Rainier and Lia were all happy to meet our cousin and his wife, Olesia. When the seven of us met in at their high rise condo in downtown Vancouver, my cousin and I stood a few feet from one another, uncertain. He looked pleased to finally meet me. I felt happy, too. We stepped forward and gave one another a wam, welcoming hug! For this moment, I am grateful.
Volodymyr, Olesia, Rainier and Lia and Celeste, and Jeff and I spent several hours together, walking through downtown Vancouver, ending up on the shore of the West End of the city. Sometimes I walked alongside my cousin, and sometimes his wife. We chatted about our lives, about their trips to Ukraine. We shared photos from our phones. My cousin and his partner were generous with their time spent with us. We were happy to meet them and so happy to have those several hours together.
Volodymyr tells me that our common relatives were from (anglicized, of course): Buzifka, or probably Sabadash. He had on his phone a photo of a babushka, like my grandmother, a relative distant to me.
And so, I made a connection to that distant place. I had hoped to travel there again – I’d been in Ukraine in 1988, in the last years of the USSR – but the continuing war and the struggle there now prevent me from traveling, although Olesia had just returned from Ukraine. I am grateful for their generosity, and for their interest. Before we parted, we took a picture of us all along the water. I cherish this memory.
