Diaspora

Stephan Welhasch

On May 11 my family and I have celebrated the 100th anniversary of my father's birth, one day after celebrating Mother's Day.  We love and miss him and love our mother dearly and deeply, as well.

My father, Wasyl "Lucky Bill" Welhasch, was born in Ukraine in the village of Humynets (Postumytivsky region of Lviv oblast).  He was a blessed man who lived a full and incredible life.  Youngest in the family, my father was predeceased by his parents, Stephan and Paraskevia, and by his brother and sisters, all in Ukraine.  He also lost his dear wife Sofia Tukalo who died in Winnipeg (b. March 8, 1922 - 1998). They were married 49 years. Father passed away on the eve of his 90th birthday, one day after Mother's Day.

Miraculously surviving WWII my father, having to leave his home and family, made his way (walking across Europe) to Belgium where he met and married my mother, Sofia Tukalo.  There they started a family (my sister Marika and me), then moved to Canada in 1952. After a few years they were blessed with another child, my sister Irka, who was born in 1956. They settled in wonderful Winnipeg and lived in the north end of the city  for the rest of their lives.

At first, times were rough and tough for them.  Like all immigrants they were quite poor, but both worked two jobs each and managed to get on their feet.  Their love for one another carried them through highs and lows, in sickness and in health.  They worked hard and eventually bought a house. They fixed the old farmhouse and planted a wonderful little garden in the backyard, which they loved so much that mother dressed the borders of our front yard with beautiful poppies.  Father loved to take care of his little lawn; they never used chemical fertilizers, God forbid.  We loved our new home and spent many fun times there with family and friends. Father lived in that house for 50 years, then moved to a small apartment across the street from St. Vladimir and Olga's Cathedral on McGregor Street.

For many years father was an active member of the Prosvita Institute, a Ukrainian Cultural Center built in the early 1900s. Father was the secretary for many years and then became president of the organization where he served faithfully for many years. He was a lifetime member of Vera Progress Credit Union in Winnipeg, were he helped out and worked part-time.  Father was also an active lifetime member of the League for the Liberation of Ukraine (LVU), later League of Ukrainian Canadians (LUC).  He helped out and supported Plast, a Ukrainian organization of boy scouts, with his building skills at the summer camp, Ukrainian Park.  God only knows where he found the time to do all this over many years.

His mission in life became helping out Ukrainians in Canada and Ukraine.  His cause in life was clear - to continue struggling for a free Ukraine. His love for Canada also was unbending.  On bent knees I once saw my father kissing the ground we walked on in our backyard.  I asked him if he was picking weeds. He turned his head and said "No, I'm kissing the ground we walk on because I love my country, Canada, and it is good to live in a free country. I pray everyday that one day Ukraine will be free.” His dream came true in 1991; he got to visit his remaining older sisters in Ukraine in 1993 shortly before they passed away.

I can only imagine how he must have felt seeing his sisters in a free Ukraine after 50 years of being separated.  I can't imagine how his family must have felt seeing him after all those years - literally almost a lifetime of being kept apart.

My father spent much time at the Prosvita Institute.  Over the years he headed up committees for Ridna Shkola (Ukrainian Saturday School), the Ukrainian Youth Association’s (CYM’s) Mandolin Youth Orchestra, and Prosvita Institute’s Athletic Club (IPAC).

Father was a huge fan of IPAC's Soccer Club and came to most of my home games at Exhibition Park.  From time to time he would walk several miles just to see us and to enjoy himself at our practices.  At our home games he would walk along the sidelines nervously and cheer me and my teammates on to many victories and unfortunately a few bitter defeats.  Years later, he enjoyed attending his grandchildren's (Andriy and Stefan) games, now watching and cheering them on from his folding lawnchair, as his legs were starting to fail him.

In his youth he loved to play soccer and sing in the church choir.  His village was famous for turning out national champion players from time to time.  Their team won several state championships before the war, he recalled.  He was quite proud of this and mentioned it to me many times over the years.

Shortly before the war, from 1933-39, he apprenticed as a carpenter during the day. In 1938-39, he attended nightschool at Ivan Franko University. During his student years he became a member of the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN) and in WWII  fought in the underground for Ukraine's independence.  He became a crack marksman and was still a good shot in his 60's until his vision started to fail him.

After the war ended he worked as a coal miner in Charleroi, south of Brussels, where my sister Marika and I were born.  Mother worked as a cook.  After immigrating to Winnipeg, "Lucky Bill", as he was called, worked as a carpenter and painter.  His last years of employment were at Bristol Aerospace.  He was my hero, a survivor, a man of his word.  True, he had his flaws, but he always strived to be a better man, a better father, grandfather and finally great-grandfather.  Yet in light of all that I have written about him, I was barely able to capture his kind smile, his emotional side.  He was a man of few words and many tears of sadness and happiness, a man who was so full of life and joy.

Father was a very devout man, who attended church every Sunday, rain or shine.  He helped out at church and loved to sing in the choir. His devotion to his faith, family and community instilled the same values in his children and grandchildren  He lived long enough to see his first great-grandchildren, Maya and Ariana, my beloved granddaughters.

Being an avid reader of Ukrainian literature, history and current world affairs, he was a kind man of few words with a great sense of humour.  He also liked doing magic tricks.  Father loved telling stories of his youth and his dramatic excape from Eastern Europe near the end of WWII.  When we were younger children he loved to read books out loud for us to enjoy and learn.

During the first Soviet invasion and occupation of Western Ukraine he was imprisoned and tortured in the infamous Lontsky Prison where he languished for nearly two years.  Then the Nazis invaded Western Ukraine and he managed to escape from a Soviet workgang that was upgrading roads for runways near Kyiv.  Out of five thousand prisoners in the workgang only 2000 survived.

His freedom was shortlived.  The Germans captured him as he was returning home on foot from Eastern Ukraine, fleeing from the Soviets.  Having been a Soviet prisoner, still in Soviet prison garb, without any papers, and being a suspected member of the Ukrainian underground organization OUN he was thrown into a maximum security prison in Lviv called Briggitka ( a monestary built in the 1600s), just a  few blocks away from Lviv's opera house where his brother once sang.

He spent nearly a year in Briggitka prison.  Beaten half to death by the Gestapo and left for dead, somehow by the grace of God, he was saved and survived.  After nearly a year of recovering from his wounds and hiding from the German Gestapo and Russian NKVD he was strong enough to join the fight against both Russian and German invaders.  He fought in the underground until the spring of 1944 when he was captured by the Germans and thrown into a stalag for 7 months.  The war ended and he fled to the West, to the American zone. 

Father had a passion for singing, was blessed with a beautiful tenor voice.  I loved listening to him and my mother singing together during special family occasions.  For many years he sang with the Dumka Choir.  Besides singing he liked to act on stage.  I can recall his acting in several plays when I was a little boy in the 1950s.  He played the role of Taras Shevchenko quite well.  After the perfomances I loved going backstage to see all the performers in the dressing room taking off their makeup and putting their instruments away.  I loved the joy I felt when the show ended with standing ovations.  All of this had a definite impact on my life, my love of music, the arts, literature and history.

Today, once again I take my hat off to the memory of my father and mother, and I am grateful for all the wonderful things they did for my sisters, my cousins Stefa and Orysia, my family in Ukraine and me.  They will stay in all of our hearts for as long as we live.