My Godmother
Ilona was my godmother. Recently, I was scanning family photographs, and found that I have many pictures of her holding me at my Christening, and others of her when visiting our family in the variety of places that we lived after leaving Australia. In all of the pictures she is smiling her bright smile, and holding herself with a confident composure that she sometimes found difficult to hold in life. In my minds eye, these pictures are how I remember Ilona looking, as I had not seen her in many years, and to my own disappointment, have not contacted her often in the last years.
When my sister and I were children we spent a lot of time with Ilona who lived next door to us. We would regularly go in to visit her, sneaking in sometimes to see if we could scare her with a loud boo, other times knocking on her doors to be let in. She always welcomed us, even if she was busy getting ready to do something else. Sometimes she wasn't home when we went next door, and we often felt sad that we wouldn't see her today, and would keep coming back to check if she had returned asking for a story of her day, or a story of something else. I think we knew the history of every little item in her home, and a little bit about her life, at least as much as children could understand.
What I liked best about Ilona was that she didn't talk to us like we were kids, as some adults tend to do. She listened, answered our questions, and helped us solve some of our world concerns. I always remember thinking that all of her kindergarten children were so lucky to have her as a teacher. She was a petite woman, with the ability to make children feel warm and accepted. She gave a comforting feeling, and she was fun! A few times we helped her prepare some of things that she was going to do with the kids, and this made me a little jealous, as I knew her school kids would get a little bit of her, that I would never see.
But my sister and I were the lucky ones. We got her attention and love in different ways. She taught us how to blow bubbles with bubble gum, as my mum would not allow us to chew gum. She taught us to be patient with each other as she wouldn't let us fight when we went in to visit her. She taught us about our family from our father's side with stories about her parents and grandparents. Her stories about traveling also inspired me to want to see the world beyond Australia. And I know that she loved us unconditionally. When we left Australia, leaving Ilona on her own in her little house seemed one of the worst things to me as a child. I wanted to bring her along with us because she had become such an integral part of us.
In the last years I have not seen Ilona often, and had hoped to visit Australia soon to see her again. However, her gentle soul and kindness will live on in my memory, as will the many lessons I learned from her that have shaped me as an individual. Vieglas smiltis Ilona. Rest in Peace Ilona.
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