Sending you warmth for this loss, Nia. I'm so sorry. But for all of us who read and write about ideas and issues, you've reminded us of what is undeniably most important of all: people, especially the people we love.
Thank you, Bryan. Zhenya really embodied that. A statesman, a scholar, and an absolutely joyful person full of love for his friends, students, colleagues, and family. 🙏🧡
I hope that this excerpt from a rumination on grief finds you well.
"
I see the wave coming
My toes grip into the sand
The earth and air go silent
I am not prepared
. . .
I think about how grief cannot be worked through. It comes and goes, ebbing and rising as it may. Like a person tossed from an old ship to wake up on shore and see the tide receding, we wake up and are surprised by the sun on our face. The air is alive again and there is a spark in our toes. The water is still there, just steps away, but that is okay. It will come back, but that is okay. None of this is bad.
That is beautiful and yes, it does. Mostly because so many have reminded me of the richness of grief when shared with those who know it. Which is, really, all of us when we pay attention. Really appreciate this. 🩵 🩵 🩵
Sorry for your loss Antonia.. Zenhya sounds like a fantastic person to be around, and also be away from.. The graciousness to meet after time 'like nothing has happened or no time has passed' is a wonderful trait of generous souls.. I'm facing the loss of family members and they're alive.. I know how that separation feels..
This means a lot. 🩵 Thank you. And I appreciate that you point that out -- not many people clue into that rare thing, a person you can see only every few years and feel like no time has passed. It's a gift.
Sending sympathies back your direction, for the losses, the separations, for the times of life and love that cut us sharp.
Zhenya's passing sounds like a profound loss, the kind of loss that changes one's world forever. You simply cannot conjure up or manufacture the special kind of love and connection that bonds two souls in the way you describe. When it happens it is precious beyond words. Something to be cherished. Something that mingles forever in the wind and the stars.
Thank you so much, Kenneth. This understanding and compassion mean a great deal. This loss really is a hard one for me, even more so as I'm sure for my father it's tenfold more cutting, and our families remain separated by oceans and continents and one authoritarian's imperial ambitions ...
The entry point into compassion, as so many have suffered and continue to suffer the same kinds of loses and circumstances, and so much worse. All we have is each other. 💙
Darling Nia, this post has broken my heart and stitched it back together at the end with its hopeful tones. The forced separation of families, the loss caused by the passage of time between the happenings of the past and recent death of a family member, the infractions caused in memory due to all the muddling of time. It is all too real, too painful. I feel you, I truly do, and I am deeply and sincerely sorry for your loss. The poem you shared captures the gist of this tragic human existence which is so impossibly beyond our control, aptly and beautifully. I hope you carry your dear Zhenya within your fierce spirit and your passion for a fairer world forever. Much love and strength to you. 💜🌼
Oh, Swarna, you know how much that means to me! I was thinking of you often as I wrote this (which I did in waves of tears), what it means to watch a loved family member slip away even in the best of circumstances. It's people like you who keep me reminded that the best way to honor their passing is with true mourning and then that carrying forward you speak of. It means everything, I think. 💙💙💙
I'm sorry for your loss, Nia. Thank you for introducing him to us. Thank you also for reminding as that suffering is universal. May our compassion rise to meet it.
I'm so sorry you didn't get to see your uncle again. Thank you for sharing your story, for adding a human element to something that feels so detached and unreal to some of us. <3
Thank you, thank you, Julie. For your condolences and for your kind words. As with my Russian grandparents, I can only hope to honor Zhenya by attempting to live up to his example.
Nia, I am very sorry for your loss. Zhenya sounds amazing; may his memory be for a blessing.
"[...] where our true human potential lies is in laughter, hugs, a meal, stories, some good friends, a much-loved family, and mourning the loss of the same. In our connections to one another." Amen to that. I've always loved what Rita Charon said about loss: we don't "get over it"; rather, we metabolize it, and it becomes part of who we are. Thank you as always. <3
Metabolizing is exactly the way to think about it, isn't it? If we're allowed to fully mourn, we carry it with us but hopefully not as an ignored or heavy burden. Thank you, Greg. I'm always grateful for your presence. 💙
Oh my, I am so sorry for your loss, and may his memory be a blessing to you all. What a legacy. I'm sitting here waiting to hear whether my elderly godfather will survive this latest health crisis, after a text from his daughter at 5 am, as she was on a plane. A woman I consider a sister. I've been thinking a lot lately about the impoverished American sense of family. Watching the last few episodes of Reservation Dogs -- a character refers to his "brother-cousin". I was lucky enough to be raised with sibling cousins, and "Aunties and Uncles" who aren't related by blood and I am always bewildered by people who don't have these relationships. No wonder we can't build public infrastructure, we can't even recognize our own extended families and communities.
Again, my condolences to you all -- what an amazing person, and a giant loss.
(and oh, I might never recover from finding out you're related to Tsvetaeva. Some time when we're having coffee I have a grad school/translation story about her work to tell you ... )
Thank you so much for sharing this, Charlotte, and I will be thinking of your godfather. What a hard thing even when, as in Zhenya's case (he was 89 and his health had been declining), it's not a surprise.
I haven't started the last season of Reservation Dogs, but am looking forward to savoring it when I'm a bit less busy. I was thinking about that some as I wrote this and thought of all the times Zhenya's daughter talked about a sense of family and how much richer it was there than it ever felt here. Something very colonial in that impoverishment, it seems.
Tell the story! I'd love to know it. My stepmother has been officially in charge of the Tsvetaev family archives for years. I met her grandmother, Maria's sister Anastasia, in 1991 when we lived in the Soviet Union. My stepmother has *so many* stories to tell about being mostly raised by Anastasia. She was so strict. She couldn't speak English anymore when we met, so she had me read her own English-written poetry back to her. (Anastasia also wrote poetry, those wasn't as known as Maria, more known for her literary salons.)
There's a small moment in one of the last eps of Rez Dogs where Montana's own Lily Gladstone uses potato chips to demonstrate how community survives. It's really beautiful and funny and reminded me of the deeply intertwined Irish Catholic community I grew up in. If you'd told me when I was younger that it doesn't get any easier to lose people when they're old, I wouldn't have believed it, but it's so hard. More a father to me than my own ever was. So waiting now to see when I'm buying a plane ticket. And now doubly grateful that I can.
Tsvetaeva! I did a presentation in a grad class, and looked at several different English translators, including one who had tried very hard to match the linguistic experiments she'd been trying in Russian. And Jackie Osherow at Utah kept arguing that the WORST translation, the one that made her sound like Thomas Hardy, was the best because it "sounded better" -- and REFUSED to engage with the idea that poetry could sound a different way! It was hilarious and enraging and sort of summed up so much about what I hated about grad school -- Oy.
Now I'm looking forward to that season even more! And who can get enough of Lily Gladstone? 🥰
It really is hard. Maybe because as we get older we're that much more conscious of what we're losing. I spoke with my father this morning, and he told me how many people spoke of feeling similarly about Zhenya, including former students. Tomorrow begins the 9-day memorial/funeral for him. What a life to have lived.
OMG making Tsvetaeva sound like Thomas Hardy?!?!?!?!?! Wow. I am with you on that. Translation is such a difficult thing, and poor translation that's about the translator more than the writer is even worse. (I've been waiting for a new translation of Pasternak. Someday.) And that goes quadruple for poetry, which goes through so many mental translations from idea to writer to reader in the original language to begin with!
I'm so sorry to hear of his passing and yet grateful to have learned of him and how he made you feel--those types of people are so precious to know, a gift that stays with you always. I really love hearing stories of generations like your family's--so many stories and heartbreaks and sacrifices and love in all of them, it reminds me that every person we meet has such stories within them--but not all tell them as well as you. ;)
"It reminds me that every person we meet has such stories within them" -- so, so true. It's something that keeps me from withdrawing from the world completely to that cabin in the woods. 😉 Being gifted with people's stories, from one's own family or others', is a pretty special thing. Thank you, Freya. 🩵
Your record of making my heart leak out my eyes only continues. What a beautiful honoring of your uncle! Ochen horosho. I don't' drink much any more but would love to drink cold vodka and eat some dense black bread and hear your stories in honor of your uncle!
I should find something to repair that heart! And spasibo. 🩵 I don't drink anymore either, but would have had one more shot of vodka with him if I could have ...
Dense black bread! I wish we could find it here. Not many people know about chyordny hlep!
When I was studying Russian we would have borscht and black bread and cold, cold vodka! I could speak Russian better after a shot but after two couldn't even hold me own with English! Think me teacher made the bread himself.
That is amazing. And sounds very fitting! I can't remember who wrote this, some American journalist who was a stringer in Russia for years, but it was something about how vodka didn't give you a hangover; it just made you feel like you'd been steamrolled on warm asphalt the previous day. 🍸 Nazdrovia!
That reminds me of that grammar joke about how important commas are because you better be clear on whether you want to say, "Let's eat, Grandma!" versus "Let's eat Grandma!" 😂
Sending you warmth for this loss, Nia. I'm so sorry. But for all of us who read and write about ideas and issues, you've reminded us of what is undeniably most important of all: people, especially the people we love.
Thank you, Bryan. Zhenya really embodied that. A statesman, a scholar, and an absolutely joyful person full of love for his friends, students, colleagues, and family. 🙏🧡
I am so sorry for your loss. The richness of his love forever etched into your heart! Love to you Nia!
Love right back to you, Val! 💞💞💞
I hope that this excerpt from a rumination on grief finds you well.
"
I see the wave coming
My toes grip into the sand
The earth and air go silent
I am not prepared
. . .
I think about how grief cannot be worked through. It comes and goes, ebbing and rising as it may. Like a person tossed from an old ship to wake up on shore and see the tide receding, we wake up and are surprised by the sun on our face. The air is alive again and there is a spark in our toes. The water is still there, just steps away, but that is okay. It will come back, but that is okay. None of this is bad.
"
That is beautiful and yes, it does. Mostly because so many have reminded me of the richness of grief when shared with those who know it. Which is, really, all of us when we pay attention. Really appreciate this. 🩵 🩵 🩵
I'm very sorry for your loss, and the difficulty in seeing your family.
Thank you, Thomas. 💙
Sorry for your loss Antonia.. Zenhya sounds like a fantastic person to be around, and also be away from.. The graciousness to meet after time 'like nothing has happened or no time has passed' is a wonderful trait of generous souls.. I'm facing the loss of family members and they're alive.. I know how that separation feels..
This means a lot. 🩵 Thank you. And I appreciate that you point that out -- not many people clue into that rare thing, a person you can see only every few years and feel like no time has passed. It's a gift.
Sending sympathies back your direction, for the losses, the separations, for the times of life and love that cut us sharp.
I'm so sorry for your loss. Sending love to you and your family.
Thank you, Hannah! 🩵
Thank you so much for sharing, Nia.
Zhenya's passing sounds like a profound loss, the kind of loss that changes one's world forever. You simply cannot conjure up or manufacture the special kind of love and connection that bonds two souls in the way you describe. When it happens it is precious beyond words. Something to be cherished. Something that mingles forever in the wind and the stars.
My condolences to you and your family.
Thank you so much, Kenneth. This understanding and compassion mean a great deal. This loss really is a hard one for me, even more so as I'm sure for my father it's tenfold more cutting, and our families remain separated by oceans and continents and one authoritarian's imperial ambitions ...
The entry point into compassion, as so many have suffered and continue to suffer the same kinds of loses and circumstances, and so much worse. All we have is each other. 💙
Darling Nia, this post has broken my heart and stitched it back together at the end with its hopeful tones. The forced separation of families, the loss caused by the passage of time between the happenings of the past and recent death of a family member, the infractions caused in memory due to all the muddling of time. It is all too real, too painful. I feel you, I truly do, and I am deeply and sincerely sorry for your loss. The poem you shared captures the gist of this tragic human existence which is so impossibly beyond our control, aptly and beautifully. I hope you carry your dear Zhenya within your fierce spirit and your passion for a fairer world forever. Much love and strength to you. 💜🌼
Oh, Swarna, you know how much that means to me! I was thinking of you often as I wrote this (which I did in waves of tears), what it means to watch a loved family member slip away even in the best of circumstances. It's people like you who keep me reminded that the best way to honor their passing is with true mourning and then that carrying forward you speak of. It means everything, I think. 💙💙💙
I know dearest, tight hugs 💜
What beautiful words and a gift in your life. Thank you. Condolences… ❤️
Thank you, Sean. He was indeed a gift. I'm lucky to have known him. 💙
I'm sorry for your loss, Nia. Thank you for introducing him to us. Thank you also for reminding as that suffering is universal. May our compassion rise to meet it.
Thank you, John. And wow, yes. May our compassion rise to meet it. The great challenge of humanity, isn't it?
I truly believe it is, yes.
I'm so sorry you didn't get to see your uncle again. Thank you for sharing your story, for adding a human element to something that feels so detached and unreal to some of us. <3
Thank you, thank you, Julie. For your condolences and for your kind words. As with my Russian grandparents, I can only hope to honor Zhenya by attempting to live up to his example.
Nia, I am very sorry for your loss. Zhenya sounds amazing; may his memory be for a blessing.
"[...] where our true human potential lies is in laughter, hugs, a meal, stories, some good friends, a much-loved family, and mourning the loss of the same. In our connections to one another." Amen to that. I've always loved what Rita Charon said about loss: we don't "get over it"; rather, we metabolize it, and it becomes part of who we are. Thank you as always. <3
Metabolizing is exactly the way to think about it, isn't it? If we're allowed to fully mourn, we carry it with us but hopefully not as an ignored or heavy burden. Thank you, Greg. I'm always grateful for your presence. 💙
Oh my, I am so sorry for your loss, and may his memory be a blessing to you all. What a legacy. I'm sitting here waiting to hear whether my elderly godfather will survive this latest health crisis, after a text from his daughter at 5 am, as she was on a plane. A woman I consider a sister. I've been thinking a lot lately about the impoverished American sense of family. Watching the last few episodes of Reservation Dogs -- a character refers to his "brother-cousin". I was lucky enough to be raised with sibling cousins, and "Aunties and Uncles" who aren't related by blood and I am always bewildered by people who don't have these relationships. No wonder we can't build public infrastructure, we can't even recognize our own extended families and communities.
Again, my condolences to you all -- what an amazing person, and a giant loss.
(and oh, I might never recover from finding out you're related to Tsvetaeva. Some time when we're having coffee I have a grad school/translation story about her work to tell you ... )
Thank you so much for sharing this, Charlotte, and I will be thinking of your godfather. What a hard thing even when, as in Zhenya's case (he was 89 and his health had been declining), it's not a surprise.
I haven't started the last season of Reservation Dogs, but am looking forward to savoring it when I'm a bit less busy. I was thinking about that some as I wrote this and thought of all the times Zhenya's daughter talked about a sense of family and how much richer it was there than it ever felt here. Something very colonial in that impoverishment, it seems.
Tell the story! I'd love to know it. My stepmother has been officially in charge of the Tsvetaev family archives for years. I met her grandmother, Maria's sister Anastasia, in 1991 when we lived in the Soviet Union. My stepmother has *so many* stories to tell about being mostly raised by Anastasia. She was so strict. She couldn't speak English anymore when we met, so she had me read her own English-written poetry back to her. (Anastasia also wrote poetry, those wasn't as known as Maria, more known for her literary salons.)
There's a small moment in one of the last eps of Rez Dogs where Montana's own Lily Gladstone uses potato chips to demonstrate how community survives. It's really beautiful and funny and reminded me of the deeply intertwined Irish Catholic community I grew up in. If you'd told me when I was younger that it doesn't get any easier to lose people when they're old, I wouldn't have believed it, but it's so hard. More a father to me than my own ever was. So waiting now to see when I'm buying a plane ticket. And now doubly grateful that I can.
Tsvetaeva! I did a presentation in a grad class, and looked at several different English translators, including one who had tried very hard to match the linguistic experiments she'd been trying in Russian. And Jackie Osherow at Utah kept arguing that the WORST translation, the one that made her sound like Thomas Hardy, was the best because it "sounded better" -- and REFUSED to engage with the idea that poetry could sound a different way! It was hilarious and enraging and sort of summed up so much about what I hated about grad school -- Oy.
Now I'm looking forward to that season even more! And who can get enough of Lily Gladstone? 🥰
It really is hard. Maybe because as we get older we're that much more conscious of what we're losing. I spoke with my father this morning, and he told me how many people spoke of feeling similarly about Zhenya, including former students. Tomorrow begins the 9-day memorial/funeral for him. What a life to have lived.
OMG making Tsvetaeva sound like Thomas Hardy?!?!?!?!?! Wow. I am with you on that. Translation is such a difficult thing, and poor translation that's about the translator more than the writer is even worse. (I've been waiting for a new translation of Pasternak. Someday.) And that goes quadruple for poetry, which goes through so many mental translations from idea to writer to reader in the original language to begin with!
I'm so sorry to hear of his passing and yet grateful to have learned of him and how he made you feel--those types of people are so precious to know, a gift that stays with you always. I really love hearing stories of generations like your family's--so many stories and heartbreaks and sacrifices and love in all of them, it reminds me that every person we meet has such stories within them--but not all tell them as well as you. ;)
"It reminds me that every person we meet has such stories within them" -- so, so true. It's something that keeps me from withdrawing from the world completely to that cabin in the woods. 😉 Being gifted with people's stories, from one's own family or others', is a pretty special thing. Thank you, Freya. 🩵
Your record of making my heart leak out my eyes only continues. What a beautiful honoring of your uncle! Ochen horosho. I don't' drink much any more but would love to drink cold vodka and eat some dense black bread and hear your stories in honor of your uncle!
I should find something to repair that heart! And spasibo. 🩵 I don't drink anymore either, but would have had one more shot of vodka with him if I could have ...
Dense black bread! I wish we could find it here. Not many people know about chyordny hlep!
When I was studying Russian we would have borscht and black bread and cold, cold vodka! I could speak Russian better after a shot but after two couldn't even hold me own with English! Think me teacher made the bread himself.
Nazdrovia!
That is amazing. And sounds very fitting! I can't remember who wrote this, some American journalist who was a stringer in Russia for years, but it was something about how vodka didn't give you a hangover; it just made you feel like you'd been steamrolled on warm asphalt the previous day. 🍸 Nazdrovia!
🤣
I'm sorry but only for the loss of Zhenya, but the loss of the time you didn't get to spend with him over the years.
Thank you. Me, too.
That sound read "not only for the loss..."
That reminds me of that grammar joke about how important commas are because you better be clear on whether you want to say, "Let's eat, Grandma!" versus "Let's eat Grandma!" 😂
Great, now I'm hungry! 🤣
😋