Tuesday, September 27, 2022
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Sadly, my mother left us a few days ago to be with my father, her mother and father, her sister and my brother, Boris.
Born in 1932, Mom was an infant at the time of a devastating famine in Ukraine, known as Holodomor. Yet, through strength and will her family survived and went on to live through World War II. My parents met after the war ended, and in the 1950’s my mother and father emigrated to Canada with their small children, Christina and Boris. Their family grew to include me, Elizabeth and then my sister, Michelle and my brother, Christopher. Then 12 grandchildren and 11 great-grandchildren.
Growing up in Pickering, I remember my mother had many friends, everyone who met her liked her. We couldn’t walk around the block without people calling out to say hello or stopping to talk to her. She babysat many of the neighbourhood children on school days, opening her door to them in the early hours of the morning as their parents left for work. She brought borscht, cabbage rolls and varenyky to her neighbours. She was incredibly gifted at crocheting and made shawls, baby outfits and blankets, donating most of it to the Scarborough Centenary Hospital gift shop. Neighbours brought their children’s pants to my mother so she could crochet a fringe on the bottom, just so they could be worn a little bit longer. She crocheted ponchos as gifts for the girls on our street. Most people on Vistula Drive knew ‘Mrs Hoyer’. She was a loved and trusted friend to all.
In a blink of an eye we were all grown up and soon we brought our own babies and children to my parent’s home. My mother loved children and she doted on her grandchildren. She always had their favourite foods in the house and never forgot a birthday.
Although she struggled in her final years and missed my father terribly after he passed away in 2012, without realizing it she was the glue that held us together. And even though at times we came apart, she remained the single strong connection we had.
Mom, I miss having coffee with you upstairs in your ‘middle room’. I miss going to the mall with you and having lunch in the café. I miss your many daily phone calls, how I wish you could drive me crazy just one more time. I will forever hear your laughter, as you held your hand to your mouth to try to control the laughing, tears running down your face as you tried to catch your breath.
You’ll be so sadly missed by Natasha, Daniel, Sonia and Peter who have so many memories of countless weekends spent with you and dad. You were an integral part of their lives as they grew up to become the people they are. They will forever remember you, Baba.
Mom, I know you are at peace again, and I can imagine you looking down on us all, smiling as you are with dad again at last, just where you want to be.
I love you, Mom.
Elizabeth
