Remembering Grandma Sonja and Grandpa Semyon

Today is my late maternal grandmother Sonja's birthday. It's good to remember her. She would have turned 98, but she died 6 years ago. To tell the truth, I was always a bit afraid of her. I probably thought she was too strict, or actually too distant. I always said "Вы" to her, never "ты" (respectful "you" instead of casual "you"). But at the same time, I liked to visit her, liked her dinners and her compotes. Of course, I came also to visit my Aunt Natasha and my dear cousin Zhenya, who lived together with grandma.

Aunt Natasha, grandma, my mother Lora Levina
15 July 1999, grandma's 85th birthday

me, grandma, my mother Lora Levina
15 July 1999, grandma's 85th birthday

As a kid, I was proud that she and her husband (my grandfather) Semyon were Communist Party members, the only party members in our family. Grandpa would tell me his war-time stories, how he, as an artillery officer, would go on reconnaissance missions with his men, and how they would have to hide somewhere for days and eat horse meat. Grandpa was the head of the department of Geodesy and Cartography at the Technological Institute in Minsk. He never completely recovered from his wounds sustained during the war and died in 1984 when I was 11 years old. I guess I was even more afraid of him than of my grandma.

Grandma didn't say much. She would read her newspapers or watch TV. She'd inquire about how things were going with me. But she wasn't the kind op person I'd turn to to talk about my inner life and things that were really important to me. She was a strong personality, highly respected by everybody. I heard the stories of how she, in her late 20's, struggled and worked hard in evacuation during the war with two half-starved small kids, how she'd spend most of her free time after the war to study and learn.

I liked the food that she cooked, especially the fruit compotes with dried apricots and raisins. This is one of my most vivid memories from childhood :) Another memory of her is how I would enter the backyard of their house and see her sitting on a bench with a neighbor, while my then small cousin Zhenya would be playing outside. And the characteristic smell in the hall of the house, and how in the last years of her life she could barely walk and would lie down on her sofa for hours and think her thoughts. She remained very clear-headed until the end.

Rest in peace, dear grandma.