My first memories of Bielsko Biala was that of beautiful Secessionist buildings, cobble stoned streets and snow capped mountains on the distant horizon.  The city had been part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire prior to World War I, and had inherited many architectural features of that era. 

My eldest first paternal cousin, Basia (who has sinced passed away) brought me to this southern Polish city to see the grave of my maternal grandfather who was buried here eight months before my birth.  It was Basia who took on the role of guardian of my grandfather’s grave once my Babcia (grandmother) migrated to join her only daughter in Australia in 1962.

After the war, my mother and her parents moved from Brzesc nad Bugiem (which became part of the Soviet Union) to Krakow, a city where they spent a decade before World War II.  From Krakow they moved to Bielsko Biala, where my grandfather (Dziadek) Wlodzimierz Dabrowski continued working as a bookkeeper for the State run distillery (now Polmos). 

After a short period of rest at my cousin Rita’s home on the outskirts of Krakow, I joined my Canadian friends in a rental car heading for Bielsko Biala.  Zbyszek Kuflik’s parents came from small hamlets in the environs of Bielsko Biala and it was in this area that Zbyszek and his mother found sanctuary during the war years.  Zbyszek was on a voyage to rediscover his childhood, while I was on an expedition in the footsteps of my mother’s family.

On arriving in Bielsko Biala I met up with Lucyna Grabowska, an internet bridge friend.  It was a serendipitous meeting with Lucynka (my namesake) in an online bridgeroom which lead to an wonderful situation by which my grandfather’s grave was saved from destruction.  With the passing of Basia, my cousin, my knowledge of the exact location of my grandfather’s grave disappeared. 

 For at least the first ten years from his death in 1960, my grandparents’ friends and my parental cousin Basia visited Dziadek’s grave and lit the traditional candles and places posies of flowers.  With time they also joined the ranks of the dearly departed, and I the only descendant of Wlodzimierz Dabrowski did not have firm information of the whereabouts of his last resting place.

 Thanks to the chance meeting with Lucyna in BBO (a cyber bridge club) that Dziadek’s grave was no longer abandoned.  Whenever Lucynka visits the graves of her own parents she visits Dziadek.  Through also her intervention we managed to prevent the nomination of Dziadek’s grave as being abandoned by the cemetery authorities.  My Babcia had paid for forty years of cemetery fees, the period had run out in 2000.  Cemeteries recyle abandoned gravesites and thus two weeks after Lucynka having paid the arrears , neighbouring abandoned gravesites had new occupants – this would have been the fate of Dziadek’s last resting place.  So I am now able to visit the flat grave with the black marble crucifix on the cement plaque.

 We arrived at the cemetery gates and coincidentally met Lucyna’s brother and sister-in-law.  Lucyna’s brother recently renewed the engraving on my Dziadek’s grave.  After forty eight years of exposure to wind and weather, the lettering could barely be read and Mr Grabowski, out of the kindness of his heart, meticulously repainted the gold lettering.

 With Lucynka, we went to the flat grave stone, lit candles and placed purple flowers .  I promised that I would maintain ongoing contact – I was the only living descendant and it was my duty to maintain this holy place.

 We then headed off to the parish office, which was administered by a nun in a traditional penguinlike pre-Vatican II habit.  I informed her that as the deceased’s granddaughter I wished to pay ten years of cemetery fees.  With the exact date of the deceased’s passing, she pulled out of the heavy oak cupboard’s thick bound tomes of burials from 1960.  The administrative process seemed to be like something out of previous centuries.  Computerisation has not yet caught up with the Biala Roman Catholic Parish of Divine Providence.

 Lucynka and I headed off across the cobbled roadway to the Catholic Church.  I mentioned in passing to Lucynka that fifty years ago my parents would have been making tracks to this office to arrange their marriage.  It was in this church that my parents had been married in 1958, and here in 1960 that my Dziadek’s funeral had been held.  Along these cobble stones my grandmother would have walked from Rychlinski street where there home was situated three blocks away.

 Exiting the church, we noticed that a funeral was about to take place.  Then as with Divine intervention, the church bells began to chime.  These two moments seemed to be coincidental given the two Lucynkas had been talking about another funeral which had taken place forty eight years prior.

 The city is a picturesque location with many art nouveau mansions which are gradually being restored to their former glory.  The central railway station built in 1888 gives a glimpse to the other magnificent buildings which unfortunately had been destroyed during the war.

 I could finally appreciate my mother’s connection with this town.  In Melbourne, when our local Polish children’s dance group was being formed, it was her idea that it be named “Beskidy”.  Bielsko Biala is a vital part of this mountainous region bordering Slovakia.

photos

http://www.flickr.com/photos/lucyna_98/sets/72157606397859500/