Dad was a reserved man with a dry wit; you had to look for the sparkle in his eye to make sure he was joking. He really only swore when he was driving or when something made him very angry, but he didn’t shout or blow up.

Throughout my childhood and young adulthood, whenever I questioned something, I’d ask myself, “what would Dad do?” A few years ago my daughter said she asks the same question, but it’s “What would Mom do?” so I suppose the apples don’t fall far from the trees. He died of lung cancer when my daughter was around 10 months old, so everything she and her kids know about him was from what I told her and she told them.

I learned so much from Dad’s example of how he lived his life and how he treated people. My mother would get so angry with me, “You’re just like your dad!” she’d scream. At first I was shocked, but soon I realized it was actually a compliment, and I would treasure those thoughts deep inside of myself, not letting her see. It has been his quiet moral compass that has been my guide throughout my life.

Dad always said that it was very important to give back to the community in a way we’re best able to. I think this is why I’ve persevered in writing my blog in spite of not selling tons of books each year or having a massive following. I see from the stats that I get a lot of visitors and readers. More than one reader has said they keep tabs open for different posts they need to remember, so I know even though I don’t interact with most of my readers, I’m still helpful, even if it is a small way.

His greatest talent was music. He started a band for Ukrainian youth, teaching the kids all the instruments and writing all the music for every level. The 2 choirs were the church choir and a community choir which he wrote the music for all the voices, based on Ukrainian folk songs. The church choir sang music from what he wrote from memory from having grown up with his father being the choir conductor in a monastery. Years later I heard a recording of the USSR national choir performing church liturgical music, and Dad had written it all note for note.

I was in the youth band, struggling to play my squeaky clarinet. For performances I was always placed in the front row, and when my little fingers started to get tired further into the performance I would invariably start to squeak. This must have sounded awful to his ears; he was so tuned into hearing all the instruments playing and the choir singing simultaneously that when one person played an off note or sang off key, he could pick out the culprit immediately. My squeaks must have gotten under his skin, but he never scolded me for it, he knew my very shy self would have shriveleled up.

Dad spent years writing stacks of music for the band and the choirs, and it all paid off with tours to different cities. There was only one time I can remember when they didn’t receive a standing ovation, and he was crushed, questioning himself repeatedly, “What did I do wrong?” He poured himself into the music and into the Ukrainian community in Montreal. It was his connection to his country he had been torn away from by the German soldiers in WWII.

He and his sister (when they were teens), along with many from the Ukrainian community were put on trains and send to slave labor camps for the German war effort. He was put to work in a machine shop cutting metal tubing to make bullets. He survived the brutal conditions by cutting rings from the tubing which he and a few other men then inscribed with designs from Easter eggs. These rings were traded with the guards for cigarettes. Since Dad didn’t smoke, he traded the cigarettes for extra food rations, which helped keep him alive. They could have been shot for what they did, except the guards’ girlfriends loved the rings and asked for more.

He came to Montreal with around $25 dollars in his pocket, learned to speak English by reading the weekend comics in the newspaper, took difficult jobs tarring roofs, and later went to night school to learn drafting. When he wasn’t writing music, he was building boats and fixing things that needed fixing, from cars to kitchen sinks.

He taught me that when one needs to, we can dig deep to survive. He also showed me that we can move from survival mode into thriving, by following our joy. He taught me that no matter what difficulties we come from we can still be kind to others and treat them well. We do not need to give in to our anger or pain, but we can transmute them into something else.

Dad showed me everyone has a talent or skill; it just needs to be worked on and developed. He learned to speak a few languages fluently; he learned many skills either by taking classes or being self-taught. He kept himself busy doing constructive things around the house and for the community.

Dad lost his hair from the harsh times he had spent in the slave labor camp, and for a young man that could have affected his self-image, but he never let it. He owned everything about himself and didn’t hide; indeed, when Telly Savalas was popular on the TV series Kojak years later, he would often get mistaken for the actor. He always stood tall yet was never arrogant.

Thank you, Dad, for the lessons you have shared from your life. I’m thankful for the years we had. I miss you.

• PTSD flare
• My mother’s passing and a deep lesson she learned
• An important lesson I learned after my mother’s last hours
• Does asking for forgiveness in the final moments of life count?
• A very needed fresh start
  
• GRATITUDE in advance is the most powerful creative force in the Universe
• Gratitude, Joy and Synchronicity
• Living the circle of life… giving and receiving in gratitude
• Speak of the past gratefully…
  
• Life is a series of tiny miracles. Notice them.
• Miracles of healing: how this manifests
• Never Stop believing in hope. Miracles happen everyday.
• The Universe believes in you. Trust you are being guided.
• The Universe sends us a trail of breadcrumbs to follow.
  
• Integrity… is it lost? Some signs that someone has integrity
• Never wish them pain. Wish them healing. That’s what they need.
• What you are walking through at this moment may just be the story that helps get someone else through…
• When we seek to discover the best in others, we somehow bring out the best in ourselves.
• Your work is not to drag the world kicking and screaming into a new awareness!
• You become what you surround yourself with. Energies are contagious. Choose carefully. Your environment will become you.
• You must learn a new way to think before you can master a new way to be.
• You’re not selfish for wanting the same energy and love you give.

 ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Blessings!
Thank you for liking, sharing this post and for following me!
Tamara

I hope you’ll poke around my Archived Posts Main page divided up into 3 sub-pages: Mental Health and Rewiring the Brain || Healing and Developing Ourselves || Positive thoughts and Affirmations to find a wonderful trove of supportive and encouraging posts!
https://tamarakulish.com/

My books: Developing Happiness When You Can’t Find It and How to Heal Your Life on a Deep Heart Level are available in paperback and Kindle. Audiobooks are available for the busy person!

Guided Journals help you work on a particular issue by answering questions to help see patterns and to find solutions:

Removing Inner Blocks ||  Anger Journal || Guided Anxiety Journal  ||  Joy & Mindfulness Journal   ||  My Boundaries Journal  || My Inner Thoughts Journal   

Thanks for buying my books on Amazon!

#writing #InspirationalWriting #art #creativity #strength #mentor #teacher #HappinessGuru #love #growth #healing #life, #inspiration, #quotes #happiness #joy #PersonalGrowth #pain #depression #anxiety #SelfEsteem, #LifeSkills #empowerment #encouragement #support #intuition #journal #consciousness #mind #learn #God #universe #angels #spiritual #spirit #awareness #journal #boundaries #emotionalhealth #mentalhealth #emotions