Quietly passed away.....
Earlier today, 5th April 2015 she slipped away to find at last rest and peace that eluded her for the most of her 90 years.
As a teenager growing up in Nazi occupied Greece she joined the Resistance from early on. It was then that she met the man that she would later spend the rest of her life with. This young man from a small village in Cyprus who had left his father’s sheep and goats and rallied to fight for the liberty of the mother country found himself abandoned by the Allies when they retreated from Greece. Fearful for his life in a strange land this corporal in the Cyprus Regiment found refuge with a brave family at Pyri in Thebes; my mother’s uncle.
Months later, this safe haven was betrayed and the young corporal was captured by the Italians and was sent to a prisoner of war camp in Italy from where he would eventually escape and spend the rest of the War in Switzerland.
In the meantime, with the capitulation of the Nazis the young lady in Thebes found that the group she was struggling with in the Occupation was now considered enemy of the state. Fearing for her life, she was smuggled out of Greece with a false passport. She turned to the only man she knew outside of Greece and they were soon married.
Village life in Cyprus in the 40's and 50's was hard but this young lady's life was made harder by the locals' prejudices. It was not long before her kindness warmed everyone to her. She formed a kind of finishing school at our house and taught all the young girls of the village arts and crafts; a generation grew up equipped with skills and knowledge for which they are always grateful. Whenever I return to the village the first thing they ask me is “How is Kyria Yioula? She is the most wonderful person, she taught us all…”, “Yes, yes, I know, she sends her regards..”
Life in London in the 60’s was not easy for immigrants, a whole life spent as a foreigner in foreign lands. She struggled with work well below her capacity and as a seamstress working for 12-15 hours a day, every day she made sure that we were not short of anything. Happy that her three children had made it through university and settled with good jobs she should have been rewarded with a more comfortable life.
Soon after my father passed away she developed dementia and as the dreaded disease took its hold deeper and deeper, her oldest son, my beloved brother passed away from cancer. On his deathbed he made me promise that our mother would never find out. I carried on this lie for five years, grateful that her short memory span didn’t betray the terrible secret I kept from her.
The most devoted, dearest Mother, rest in peace.
Quietly passed away.....
Earlier today, 5th April 2015 she slipped away to find at last rest and peace that eluded her for the most of her 90 years.
As a teenager growing up in Nazi occupied Greece she joined the Resistance from early on. It was then that she met the man that she would later spend the rest of her life with. This young man from a small village in Cyprus who had left his father’s sheep and goats and rallied to fight for the liberty of the mother country found himself abandoned by the Allies when they retreated from Greece. Fearful for his life in a strange land this corporal in the Cyprus Regiment found refuge with a brave family at Pyri in Thebes; my mother’s uncle.
Months later, this safe haven was betrayed and the young corporal was captured by the Italians and was sent to a prisoner of war camp in Italy from where he would eventually escape and spend the rest of the War in Switzerland.
In the meantime, with the capitulation of the Nazis the young lady in Thebes found that the group she was struggling with in the Occupation was now considered enemy of the state. Fearing for her life, she was smuggled out of Greece with a false passport. She turned to the only man she knew outside of Greece and they were soon married.
Village life in Cyprus in the 40's and 50's was hard but this young lady's life was made harder by the locals' prejudices. It was not long before her kindness warmed everyone to her. She formed a kind of finishing school at our house and taught all the young girls of the village arts and crafts; a generation grew up equipped with skills and knowledge for which they are always grateful. Whenever I return to the village the first thing they ask me is “How is Kyria Yioula? She is the most wonderful person, she taught us all…”, “Yes, yes, I know, she sends her regards..”
Life in London in the 60’s was not easy for immigrants, a whole life spent as a foreigner in foreign lands. She struggled with work well below her capacity and as a seamstress working for 12-15 hours a day, every day she made sure that we were not short of anything. Happy that her three children had made it through university and settled with good jobs she should have been rewarded with a more comfortable life.
Soon after my father passed away she developed dementia and as the dreaded disease took its hold deeper and deeper, her oldest son, my beloved brother passed away from cancer. On his deathbed he made me promise that our mother would never find out. I carried on this lie for five years, grateful that her short memory span didn’t betray the terrible secret I kept from her.
The most devoted, dearest Mother, rest in peace.