My grandfather was born two weeks before the turn of the century. As a result, he already had to participate in the First World War. He was there in the second as well, the events of fifty-six also became a part of his life. He must have been seventeen when he and his friend fought somewhere in Italy and my grandfather was shot. His friend, while fleeing, only saw his comrade fall, thinking he was dead. He survived the fight, got home and brought the news of my grandfather’s death to his parents. Meanwhile, papa was wounded and ended up in a prison camp. He was treated, but spent months there until he recovered. It was a difficult time for his family, and for my grandfather as well. He had already had his funeral and commemoration at home, while he was cold and hungry in captivity. The prisoners secretly befriended each other and organized their escape. When they felt they were ready, everything came together, they were physically strong enough, one night some of them managed to escape. They searched for the railway through the forests, then climbed onto wagons and jumped from one train to another, and came close to their homeland. When they reached the border, they continued their journey on foot and split up, each trying to find the shortest way to his home. After a few weeks, – hungry, cold, exhausted – one night my grandfather finally reached his village. He found their house and knocked on the window.

– My mother! I came home! It’s me, Pista, your son! Let me in, please!

He rattled once more, a candle lit up in the house, and then his mother shouted at him.

– Get out of here immediately! Don’t lie! My son Pista is dead! His friend Jóska saw him falling. He had his farewell party and his funeral too!

-I’m just injured, mother! I was a prisoner of war until now, but I escaped! I’m home, let me in!

Then the door opened a crack, my great-grandmother curiously examined the stranger. The sight shocked her. A thin, tormented boy stood in the doorway, shivering and wrapped in rags. Illuminated by the candle, he tried to discover his son’s familiar features. His big brown eyes confirmed my grandfather, his mother recognized him from that. So he invited him into the house, by then everyone was up, his brothers and his father were crying and hugging the boy they thought was lost.

He was very hungry! They immediately gave him a few bites. But really just a few bites! Grandmother didn’t want to make the mistake of neighbor Mari. Jóska, my grandfather’s friend, died a few days after he came home from the front. Aunt Mari, out of good intentions, let her son eat as much as he could. After long months of starvation, it was unfortunately fatal. Therefore, my great-grandmother resorted to drastic measures. He tied grandfather to the bed so that he could not stuff himself with food from the pantry. He was guarded day and night, there was always someone by his side, he was often given a few bites and water until the danger of overeating passed.

My grandfather understood this, and when he was better, the grandmother let him go.

The war ended, my grandfather was mentally affected by the hunger, the insecurity, and what he saw on the battlefield. He had nightmares for a long time, but they managed to overcome them together by meeting and talking with comrades returning to the village. They were men, but they cried a lot.

Then everything slowly returned to the old way of life, after the ruins of the war were cleaned up, life took a little turn for the better. Of course, two-thirds of our country went there, which deeply affected him, like other people fighting for their country. But life went on…

My grandfather started working in Börzsöny, at a forestry plantation. It was here that he discovered how much he liked working with wood. He was a man with very good hands, he learned to make barrels here and became a cooper. Years passed, and then he met my grandmother and they started a family. They lived in poverty, worked a lot, like most people at that time. They also had three children, who were thriving when the war broke out again. In the Second World War, in forty-two, my grandfather had to go to the front again. In the first month, he was wounded and shot in the leg, so fortunately his service ended soon. After hospital treatment, he was able to come home to recover. He mourned his comrades a lot, but he slowly started working again. At home, he worked as a cooper, handyman and watchmaker in his village. He really liked structures, and understood them. Even if he didn’t always get money, those who used his work always brought something to eat. Eggs, chicken, bacon, that’s how they managed, even if it was difficult. Soon, their fourth child, my mother, was born. The war was not over yet. A year later, the Russians came. They reached the village, where they lodged in a large barn. They looted the local people, took a lot of their things from the people, not caring about the consequences. They also had an interpreter, so they managed to normalize a little and make people’s lives more livable.

Once a Russian soldier heard that my grandfather was a watchmaker and decided to visit him. He brought an alarm clock and wanted to force my grandfather to make him a watch. Of course it was impossible, but he just continued to be violent. Finally he took out his gun and held it to my grandfather’s head. My grandmother then picked up her daughter, my mother, and asked the Russian to wait while she spoke to the interpreter. Then, with the help of the interpreter, we managed to make the soldier understand that his request was impossible. They told him that if he brought a bad watch, my grandfather could fix it for him. This is how they managed to dissuade him from shooting the watchmaker to death.

Life during the war, uncertainty, lack of planning, hunger did not fill people with much hope for the future. Yet somehow they got through it, survived the many difficulties and trials.

Then this war also ended. It’s time to clean up the rubble and rebuild. My grandparents had another child, a girl. My mom and her little sister were very good siblings, they were always close to each other. The three older brothers – the older boys and the older girl – moved away, all three started families. My mother and her younger brother also grew up, they learned a lot from my grandmother, even as children they worked in the garden and in the household. My grandparents started building a house, and their two little daughters also took part in the work. It was completed over a period of years, but there was room for everyone. Then the little girls also grew up, they both found their partners and started families. Their husbands also moved there, they remodeled the house a little, so that everyone had their own apartment.

Soon I was born too. My parents were waiting for me happily, my grandparents also loved me very much, but especially my grandfather. As I grew older, I could often accompany him everywhere in the village. Even to meetings with friends, to the local pub. He drank spritz, I got raspberry syrup. Although he didn’t know how to take care of me, he always let go of my hand, so I could go wherever I wanted. Fortunately, there weren’t that many cars back then. Dad talked to me a lot, told me stories, and I hugged him a lot. It was good for him that I loved him so much. He loved that I loved him.

He asked me many times:

– My little granddaughter, will you cry for me when I die?
Of course, as a small child, I immediately freaked out and shouted that:
– Don’t die grandpa, I love you so much!

He cried with me too. My father witnessed this several times and was very angry with him. He once told him that:

– Daddy! Stop torturing that little girl because I’m going to pull one for you! What is the point of all this, why are you asking her this? How does it wring your heart?

Of course, papa didn’t stop, and papa never gave up on him either. Then came his further questions:

-Will you come to my funeral when I die? Will you cry?

This is how my grandfather wanted to make sure that someone loved him and that someone would miss him. Perhaps, I already understood his soul then.

Then, before I even grew up, my parents and I moved to the city. We bought a plot of land and started construction. Over the years, our house was slowly rebuilt. My aunts also moved out, so two of my grandparents stayed in the big house. We went on a vocation there a few times, but it was no longer like living together.

Then I became an adult. Grandma and grandpa were getting older, they couldn’t take care of themselves anymore, so my parents took them in. They sold their house, moved in with us, and we lived together again. I often shaved the grandpa because his eyesight was bad. They got old.

Then I also got married, since we had a big house, my partner also moved in with us. After our wedding, we went on our honeymoon. We traveled abroad, by car, to the beach. It was a beautiful place, we had a lot of fun. We didn’t have a phone at home back then, so we couldn’t talk to the family. We left before the school summer break and lived in a campsite. As time passed and the summer holidays came, the beach kept getting more and more crowded. That’s why we had decided to go home a few days earlier than planned. We arrived in two days.

Only when we got home did we find out that grandfather had died and that his funeral would be the following day. If there hadn’t been a crowd, if we hadn’t gone home earlier…

Yes, I went to his funeral and cried! Papa, since then several times!
Written by: Éva Aranyosi

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© Éva Aranyosi 2024.