Katie Flacks 1913-2013

Heading back up to Toronto as my grandmother passed away.  She was 99 years old and had the good health and luck to have been well and cognitive up until the last short weeks.  Katie Taylor was born in 1913 in Scotland.  She grew up there, married Louis Flacks, had three children, two boys and a girl.  My Father, at age 75 is the oldest child.  

My grandmother was the last of her line, the last on her husbands side as well  She had self admittedly outlived everyone she knew of her generation. Her husband had died 17 years prior when I was dating my husband and he was living on Dorsey in that broken down basement apartment that my Mother would not even walk into. LOL. I remember standing in that basement reading the mourner's prayer for my grandfather.  Along with other reasons, I did it because I knew my Dad needed it done and because the framework of mourning has ritual, structure and purpose.  It is proven by the test of time and the generations before us.  

Just think of the things she saw in her life.  In 1947 they moved to Israel to help the zionist movement.  They had experienced WWII with bombing raids and rations.  Moving to Israel promised more bombs, fighting and rations, however they did it anyway to help the dream become a reality.   After a number of years my grandmother decided to visit to her sister in Toronto as she could not handle the hardships of Israel's early days any longer.  A one month visit, became a three month visit,  having planted the seeds of a dream to move again.    Within a couple of years they moved to Canada before my father turned 18.  

She lived in Toronto for the rest of her life spending winters in Florida for about 20 years in retirement.  She worked for a very short time when they first immigrated. I remember going to florida and sitting on her porch watching for alligators in the ponds counting and recounting the ducks. The last few years she lived in an extended care environment with her own apartment and meals provided downstairs.  She only started to decline recently with a growing cancerous tumor and various other issues. 

I remember she used to do lot of crocheting when she was younger.  She made the same big square blanket over and over always with acrylic.  As she got older she could not work the needle and gave it up.  I brought some yarn and needles to keep me occupied during the shiva in tribute. Keep the yarn flying fiber artists.  However, I refuse to use acrylic, not my style. 

About a year ago, on one of my summer visits I decided to record her conversation.   The 17 minutes of voice note will be a great reminder of the women that was, and the lives that have been changed.  II have passed that on to my folks.

For myself I am in travel wary state. What did this all mean for my family of origin? My father as the most devoted son, was always there for his mother, visiting weekly and always making his mother a priority as he does with all his family.   What does it mean to lose this last central member of his family unit of that generation. It makes you think about the family unit and how it evolves within different cultures and spans of time.   

My family like all are a mix of cultures and influences from passionate cultures and repressed ones alike.  Reflecting on that mix, along with expectations and realities has been my focus during my practice in Toronto.  I managed to do a practices at Moksha Thornhill, a 75 minute pose class which was wonderful.   Now that I know what to expect it is much more interesting.