Jan Czyrkiewicz

It wouldn’t be so that Christmas for me could be spent at home along Slab Creek in Hillier. That time will gladly arrive in the future.

Christmas meant a drive to Ottawa this year, a drive most familiar. I originate from there and left in my twenties. Over the years my ties have become loaded with memories: the scale often sways in a bittersweet balance between sunny adolescent years in the wonder of the Gatineau hills; the celebration of intense years working in music and television; and, when the wind sometimes slips below my radar, the weight of sudden and profound loss can, in a blink, tilt my universe.

So staying present in the moment is the task at hand for me as each Ottawa trip approaches and my inner core throws on the callipers of resistance. I’m amazed at the number of delays I can come up with when I am scheduled to hit the road.

The past 14 months have been concentrated as I was called to the forefront as the sibling who would embark on that journey to the unknown that many in my generation are familiar with: the responsibility of helping an aged parent transition from their home and into a place of elder-care. I believe we innerrebel against the idea that at some point in the future we ourselves will be in a position of requiring physical help and also the moral support of decision making. I think that is part of it. It’s like a forest walk when we were kids where we would run ahead on the trail to see if we could see what awaited me around the next bend, only to uturn to the safety of the pack still without knowing.

My father’s pragmatic way of processing has guided him through a rebound from being very unwell a year ago to recouping and making the decision to leave his much beloved home of 50 years. He has transitioned into the Veterans’ wing of the Perley Rideau Centre in Ottawa.

In addition to the thorough care he receives, we have continued with the add-on private care of Yvonne, who has quickly become part of our family. Especially now with her daily visits with my dad at the Perley to tend to a range of duties from the hand-washing and drying of woollens, to keeping Dad’s newly installed bird feeders topped up—a great source of entertainment for all—while not forgetting to mention her taking Dad to medical appointments, outings and lunches with friends to continue his social enjoyment. Yvonne brings great comfort in her role as my eyes and ears on the ground, connecting through regular email between my visits.

I have been witness at the Perley to the upbeat attitude workers seem to enjoy: People with backgrounds in various fields that have come from an eclectic mix of traditions and places throughout the globe. Each has a story worth telling.

Take Jan Czyrkiewicz. Originating in Jelenia Gora in Poland, as a young man Jan saw his country politically separated while dividing his family at the same time. His mother found herself one day living on the opposite side of a newly described border drawn between her and Jan and his young family. Jan, who had long taken up the violin, had made music the centre of his life with the satisfaction of playing with the top philharmonic orchestras of the region. Conscripted into the military, he was not permitted to leave the newly divided country for five years.

When the opportunity came, Jan left for Italy and settled in Rome where he worked at various jobs. Wherever he went, his violin and his music easily transcended the barriers of language and culture. Jan played the classics; played Bach and Strauss; he learned the music of the people: Jan heartedly shared the music of his homeland. Over his threeyear stay in Italy, it was Canada where Jan was drawn to make a new life. Studying the map, he chose Ottawa on his application papers.

Settling in our nation’s capital, Jan joined the ranks at the Perley to work within the realm of the kitchen. It was at the regular serving times in the small dining area where I would escort my dad to his table did I first encounter Jan’s buoyant personality: always helpful; generous of spirit.

It was only on my recent visit that I learned of Jan’s background as a musician. That also from time to time on his days off, Jan would travel by bus from his home to use the opportunity to practice his violin at the Perley, a chance to simultaneously share his gift of music with whoever happened to stop by.

So it was on Boxing Day, as the malls heralded their attractions, from room 156 at the Perley, my dad’s new quarters, did I hear the sound of the violin murmur through the corridors. My dad with his walker, my friend Anne at his side, Yvonne close behind, we followed the tune of Waves Over the Danube. Jan had set up in a nearby, then-empty room designed for entertainment, and stood there alone while playing from his heart. We filtered in and found chairs to sit on. Slowly, the room began to fill. Care workers and volunteers guiding many in wheelchairs were pulled by the invitation of the music. The greyness of the afternoon lingering beyond the window slowly vanished. Pigeons took flight to the rooftops. Behind Jan, a row of African violets offered a soothing hue to accompany the strings of the violin.

The room continued to fill as quietly as sand through an hourglass; people from corners of the building gathered. It was midway through a sonata when I turned my head to watch as a cleaner, with his mop as his instrument, played the floor to score of the music. He then stopped, leaned against the doorway and was carried by the wonder of the moment. Jan Czyrkiewicz was not unlike a street busker or one playing in the subways, except his gift was offered freely. He gave an audience a chance to stop and attend; to be replenished by the music from around the globe, a music that binds our universal ties of humanity, a music that makes our world the beautiful place it is.

P.S.: Here is a link to a recent story on CBC radio about my dad’s war effort. http://tinyurl.com/pmf2sr2