A close friend of mine recently sent this story to Stuart McLean in hopes of having him read it for one of his contests. She sent it to me (because, as I'm sure you could've guessed, I was extremely intrigued by the statement, "... this story I sent to Stuart McLean...) and after reading it and connecting very closely to it, I asked her if I could share it here. So, here it is. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did (and as much as Stuart McLean will).
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The beginning of the circle starts at Pier 21 in Halifax in the year of 1949. My mother, who was born in Salzburg, Austria, came to Canada as a baby by boat with my grandparents. They took the train across the whole of Canada to the opposite coast, and the rest of what was to become a very big family grew up in Williams Lake, British Columbia, where my grandmother built up her own little “Austria in the woods”.
To skip a big section of the story, my mother was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis some years ago, and it developed so quickly that she is now in a wheelchair, living in a full-care nursing home where she, a relatively young woman, is nearly fully dependant on others for her care. I haven’t a clue how she does it, but she actually just smiles and laughs her way through each day and delights in all of life’s small joys. She even laughs at her disabilities. I ask, “Mami, what kind of memory exercises did you do with Papi today (Papi is my father)?” Long pause. Then she answers, “I can’t remember… What kind of games did we do?” and then we both laugh about the roaring success of these “memory exercises”.
I left the West Coast to go to Halifax to do my master’s at Dalhousie University which already tickled my mother and grandmother pink, but when I found out that our graduation party in December 2008 was to be held at Pier 21, we were all very excited. One of my many uncles called to say the family was trying to arrange to have my mother come out to Halifax for the celebration but that they needed my help on the East Coast end to arrange it. In the end, two cousins, an aunt, my grandmother, my mother, and our favourite care aid for my mother all came out from BC for the research presentation and graduation party in Halifax.
BUT… Canadian weather put a kink in our plans, as everyone except my grandmother missed a connecting flight due to fog. I sat in my room after hearing the news, anxious about my presentation the next morning and disappointed that they would not be there after all. The morning of our presentations, I looked around hopefully but did not see my family. When called, I walked up to do my presentation, turned around to begin, and saw the whole family entourage coming down the aisle toward me, fashionably late, as usual. The crowd giggled, and some friends told me later they shed a tear, as I had been talking about my aunt, cousins, grandmother, mother, and mother’s care aid coming for weeks… for months! I caught my breath and presented with them in front of me after all.
The celebration at Pier 21 was such a joy. My friends, as well as the staff and faculty of our school, truly made my family feel as if they were being received as royalty, and I will be forever grateful for that. Neither my mother nor grandmother had been back to Halifax since immigrating in 1949, and my grandfather passed away before he had the chance to go back himself. As we sat at our dinner table looking at the Austrian flag hanging over our heads, raising our glasses and singing “Ein Prosit,” I thought how perfectly wonderful this celebration was, how certain things can just fall into place to create the most meaningful of experiences. We danced the night away, my mother spinning around in her wheelchair and lasting well past midnight, and spent the next day browsing through the beautiful museum that now stands in the place of the old, original Pier 21. The staff there was also incredibly kind and generous. They kept Pier 21 open for us past closing hours, and one gentleman even snuck my grandmother a gift: a framed picture of the boat on which she came to Canada.
So, there you have this funny little full-circle story. Those were the most beautiful four days I could have imagined.
By D. Von Platen
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