Remembering Milda...

Since my parents arrived home from Latvia, I've been thinking about my Latvian grandmother, Milda. She died when I was 25 years old and three weeks shy of greeting her first great-grandchild whom she was eagerly awaiting. I still remember her suggestions for names, and her momentary disappointment that I didn't go with her suggestion of Manfred for a boy!! My choice was Erik a bit to her chagrin.

I fondly remember my grandmother's stories of her youth in Latvia and her many wonderful experiences as a young adult in the late 1920s and early 1930s in Riga. She was quite a storyteller, and she would tell me these stories as I lay down ready for sleep and she would lovingly stroke my arm as she would relive her memories in her mind's eye. I remember fondly her personal nickname for me which I imagine was her Latvianized version of my name. I don't know what the Latvian spelling would be, but I suppose the English phonetic spelling would be Rain-sea. That's how it sounded to me anyway with a European accent, ofcourse! My grandmother would also tell stories about my grandfather whom I never knew. It seems he had a wonderful sense of humor and was quite the practical joker which absolutely drove my grandmother crazy. I think that he must have been a good balance for my grandmother who tended to be very proper and practical. Actually they must have balanced each other very well since they sounded like opposites.

My grandmother Milda could also drive me crazy as well as my mother and sister, and did so numerous times. My grandmother spoke often how my grandfather could try her patience, but from personal experience I imagine she drove him crazy, too! Milda gave new meaning to nervousness and worrying. And when I was a teenager, her constant fretting drove me absolutely nuts. And that's one of the ironies of my grandmother's life. It seemed that any decision she had to make, no matter how small, she would fret and worry until someone would either beg or shout at her to decide or to stop worrying over the outcome once decided.

It's this pervasive personality trait of hers that makes her departure from Latvia seem so much more amazing to me. The war had ended and the Allies rewarded the Soviets for their help in defeating Hitler by letting them continue their occupation of the Baltic countries. And because my grandfather had been arrested by the Soviets, my grandmother recognized the rest of the family would not be safe. She also recognized that under Soviet rule they would have to forfeit all their property and money, and most importantly their freedom. The plan was that my grandmother, her sister Paula and family, my great-grandmother Terese as well my mother would flee Latvia before the Iron Curtain fell into place. My grandmother's sister Paula told Milda to go on ahead with my mother and great-mother because her husband was too ill to travel. So in 1945, Milda left Latvia with her mother and daughter in tow. My mom was 5 years old, her mother Milda was 39, and her grandmother was well into her 60s when they fled. Paula's husband died a short time later, but by then it was too late to leave. Milda never saw her sister Paula again. To this day, I am still in awe of my grandmother's courage and bravery to leave everything behind to start life over competely from scratch in a foreign land.

I'm not sure that my grandmother was ever completely happy here, but I do think that for the most part she was content. And I think that she had flashes of true happiness now and then. Some of her friends wound up here in America like her friend Anna and son Juris. Milda and Anna were in the same sorority at the University of Riga, if I remember correctly. Mom remembers playing with Juris as a child, and mom and Juris are friends to this day.

So mom's recent visit to Latvia brought back many fond memories of my grandmother. It still bothers me greatly to this day that she was taken from us three short weeks before Erik's arrival. Because it was only three weeks from my due date, I couldn't fly to Miami for her funeral so I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. And I think that she left this world before she was ready because there were several strange occurrences at her house for weeks which ended the day Erik was born. Although I'm not religious at all, I became a firm believer in an afterlife the day Erik was born because my grandmother visited me in my hospital room that day. I won't say any more about that but to say that it was my chance to say goodbye.

I love you Gramma and I've been missing you...

See Milda and me below...