Dolores
Antonija Glavas

Dolores was born in South Africa about fifty years ago. She grew up in a family with many brothers and sisters. I met her in Germany, when I came with my family as a refugee. We lived in the same house, she with her daughter in a sweet little attic, and us downstairs. We spent many Sunday afternoons talking, laughing and drinking tea in our garden. She told us about her home country and childhood and we talked about war and our problems.

She had helped me very much by the time I tried to come to Canada. She wrote all those letters I needed, called and corresponded with the embassy or emigration office. Her mother tongue was English and she liked to help me. Her life was not easy. She was divorced and had to find a job and home for herself and her daughter. The son stayed with his father and grandparents. She helped them also.

When her life became a little bit quieter she developed cancer. She fought very bravely with the illness. She hoped and prayed that everything would be all right.

Last May when I made my trip home to visit my sister after eight long months. I wanted us to go for a walk. It was a rainy evening and pretty late but I said: "Let's go." It was as if I had to go for a reason that I didn't know at that time. We walked, talked and enjoyed each other. I looked into the car while standing at the traffic light. It was waiting to turn on the green light.

The girl in the car looked at me in amazement as we recognized each other! She turned and stopped by the post office near by. She came out and I ran to hug her. I saw everything in her eyes. I should not ask but I asked: "Tarryn, what happened?" And before she could answer I knew. She said: "Mum passed away this evening and you are the first person to know it."

I think she gave me a sign to go out and to find and hug Tarryn. That was my dear friend and one of the beautiful pearls I found along my way, my Mrs. Schneider.