italki - Memorial - ciocia Wykowa (aunt Vykova) I was thinking and thinking what would be my first entry abou

Barbara

Memorial - ciocia Wykowa (aunt Vykova) I was thinking and thinking what would be my first entry about. I had some ideas but none was good enough. Just then I realized that I can write about a very special person who meant a lot in my life. That was ciocia Wykowa. At the very beginning I`d like to say sorry for using this Polish phrase which means "aunt Vykova" but I can`t imagine myself saying it in any different way. She was "ciocia Wykowa" since I can remember. I should add that she wasn`t my real aunt - she was a friend of my mum and our neighbour living a few houses further. Ciocia Wykowa was always in my life till her death in 2009. I can remember her as a very calm, polite, helpful and trustworthy woman. You could always count on her and so my mother did. Ciocia Wykowa was always the first to help in taking care of us (me and my siblings), to look after us when our parents were out and so on. She used to sing for us, play with us and I can hardly remember a situation she`d shout at us. She was simply our "good auntie". She lived in an old, pre-war semi-detached house with a vestibule, medium kitchen, a toilet and a quite big room. She lived there with her son, Wiesław (Vieslav), as his husband had died a couple of years before I was born. Her flat was old-fashioned with carpets and a kind of tapestry even in the kitchen. I can still remember the specific smell of her flat which is hard to explain - a mixture of frying, cooking and something more. I can also remember a small wooden bench I used to sit on in the vestibule. When I was sitting there, ciocia Wykowa used to bring me an apple with a crinkly peel. She also used to bring me a small glass of strawberry compote. I will never forget those yellow, crinkly apples and their taste. And anytime I drink the stewed fruit, it reminds me of her. I truly liked to listen to her stories about her youth, love or ghosts. It was really difficult for me to imagine she was ever young. On the other hand, her "ghosts stories" were so realistic! A couple of years later we got to know that she had had a brain cancer - that was too late, when the disease was totally advanced and the size of the cancer was like a tomato. She left us too early. I could write much more about her and some funny situations that she took a part in but I let myself to keep them secret, keep safe in my mind. Maybe she wasn`t rich but she was really rich with her personality. That`s why I will never forget her. Here`s a picture of her. My dear, warm ciocia Wykowa.

Nov 27, 2014 12:08 AM

Corrections · 6

Memorial - ciocia Wykowa (aunt Vykova)

I was thinking and thinking what my first entry would be about. I had some ideas but none were good enough. Just then I realized that I can write about a very special person who meant a lot in my life. That was ciocia Wykowa.

At the very beginning I'd like to say sorry for using this Polish phrase which means "aunt Vykova" but I can't imagine myself saying it in any different way. She was "ciocia Wykowa" since I can remember. I should add that she wasn't my real aunt - she was a friend of my mum and our neighbour, living a few houses further.

Ciocia Wykowa was always in my life till her death in 2009.
I can remember her as a very calm, polite, helpful and trustworthy woman. You could always count on her, and so my mother did. Ciocia Wykowa was always the first to help in taking care of us (me and my siblings), to look after us when our parents were out and so on. She used to sing for us & play with us. and I can hardly remember a situation she'd shouted/yelled at us. She was simply our "good auntie".

She lived in an old, pre-war semi-detached house with a vestibule, medium kitchen, a toilet and a quite big room. She lived there with her son, Wiesław (Vieslav), as her husband had died a couple of years before I was born. Her flat was old-fashioned with carpets and a kind of tapestry even in the kitchen. I can still remember the specific exact smell of her flat which is hard to explain - a mixture of frying, cooking and something more. I can also remember a small wooden bench I used to sit on in the vestibule. When I was sitting there, ciocia Wykowa used to bring me an apple with a crinkly peel. She also used to bring me a small glass of strawberry compote. I will never forget those yellow, crinkly apples and their taste. And anytime I drink the stewed fruit, it reminds me of her.

I truly liked to listen to her stories about her youth, love or ghosts. It was really difficult for me to imagine she was ever young. On the other hand, her "ghosts stories" were so realistic! A couple of years later we got to know that she had had a brain cancer - that was too late***, when the disease was totally advanced and the size of the cancer was like a tomato. She left us too early.

[*** if you mean to describe the news: it was too late.

If you meant to describe the tumor: that was too advanced]

I could write much more about her and some funny situations that she took a part in but I let myself to keep them secret, keep safe in my mind. Maybe she wasn't rich but she was really rich with in her personality. That's why I will never forget her.

Here's a picture of her. My dear, warm ciocia Wykowa.

November 27, 2014

Thank you, Shah :-) She was a really special person for me. There are some funny stories about her, too. For example the situation when I got drunk at the age of 4 or 5 because she let me drink her wine. You know, I was a little girl, so, first of all, I didn`t understand I shouldn`t drink it (and she was so "nice" to not explain me that) and, secondly, it was easy to become drunk as a lord after a small amount of the alcohol ;) Imagine my parents not understanding what was going on with me. Another story is that I used to speak very fast, especially when I was excited about something. One day we (me and my family) visited my aunt. She was the sister of my father. I wanted to help her to wash the dishes. She agreed and I was happy I could help. In my excitement, I was about 5 years old, if I good remember. I started telling a story or something and my aunt could hardly understand me. Then she asked: "Why are you talking to me in such funny way, Basia?" and just then I blindly replied: "Bo mnie ciocia Fykofa fychofyfała" what means, more or less: "Because I was brought up by aunt Fykofa". As I told you, I was speaking very fast&indistincly. At this point you should know that ciocia Wykowa had a slight pronunciation` defect. By those sentence I meant that she was my "tutor" and that`s why I was speaking in that way ;) Of course, it became an anecdote in my family. It isn`t that funny when I write about the story - it would be more funny if you could see&hear me at that time ;)

November 27, 2014