Today is exactly 11 years since my dad passed away, at the age of 67. After all these years I miss him terribly and sometimes I think that I would give a lot just to hear his voice and for him to tell me "I'm great, like an old piece of wood, nothing can happen to me". And then during the preparation of one dinner his heart failed, he passed away sitting in his armchair.
My father was born in 1942 in Zadar, and exactly one year after that, his father, who was a partisan, was killed in the war. My grandma was left alone in a poor Dalmatian village with seven children in a country where war was raging. My dad was the youngest child. During the war, two of his twins died, presumably from starvation, and one sister disappeared. When he finished the first four grades of primary school, my grandmother took him from school and gave him to a blacksmith to learn the trade and help feed the family. The teachers at the school noticed him as an intelligent and bright child who learned easily and quickly, and with the help of the local authorities they took him by force from my grandmother and put him in a boarding school for the purpose of continuing his education. It was a scholarship that he received for good grades and on the privilege of being a child of a fallen partisan. On the island of Ugljan, he finished the last four grades of primary school, passing two years of curriculum in one year. He had lost two years when he dropped out of school, but he managed to catch up easily.
He passed everything with ease and was given the opportunity to go to highschool in Zagreb, where he was enrolled in a dental school. He said later that at that time he had no idea what a dental technical school was, he thought it was just a technical one. He finished that school with excellent grades, and because of that he got the chance to apply for further education at the University. He successfully passed the entrance exam at the Faculty of Dentistry in Zagreb, where he quickly distinguished himself as one of the best students and was a demonstrator at several departments, which was a paid position at the time. So, he started earning money as a student. In the fourth year of his studies, he met a beautiful young woman with whom he fell endlessly in love, and that love lasted for the rest of his life. It was my mom. Mom was 6 years younger than him and at just 18 she got pregnant with me. My grandparents, mother's parents, were not at all thrilled with what was happening to their only child and asked her to have an abortion and continue her education, finish high school and start University. Dad told them he would kill them if mom had an abortion. And so, I was born. I was often told later, when times were not happy, that I was a child of love.
Dad loved my mum, but despite that, his marriage was very turbulent and actually deeply unhappy. An orphan child from boarding school, my father, and a spoiled and later ill single child, my mother, often could not find a way out of the dramas that shook them. Twenty years before my father’s death, my mother left him and 10 years later she died. He never looked at any other woman in those twenty years, although we suggested it to him, and he lived for his job, his patients, and above all for his children, me and my brother. He was a caring dad with whom we shared everything we had in life. By character he was a fighter who defied arrogance and imposed authorities and all his life he advocated for the weak and powerless. He worked for years without taking a single day off and often got up during the night when people from his county had a toothache during the night.
In the last years of his life, he went from the nickname Doc to Old Doc. Sometimes I wonder if the good he has done for many people during his life has returned through his daughter, in the most difficult moments of her life who has found a Doc in distant England who takes good care of her and helps her.
If I could tell him something at least one more time, I would tell him, "Dad, we're fine, don't worry.”
We love you,
Kristina
Thursday, March 4, 2021
“Tata, dobro smo, ne brini”.
Danas je tocno 11 godina od kad mog tate vise nema. I nakon svih tih godina strahovito mi nedostaje I ponekad pomislim da bih puno toga dala samo da mu cujem glas I da mi kaze “Ja sam ti super, kao stara drenovina, nista se meni ne moze dogoditi”. I onda tokom pripremanja jedne vecere srce mu je otkazalo, preminuo je sjedeci u svojoj fotelji.
Tata je rodjen 1942. u Zadru, a tocno godinu dana nakon toga poginuo mu je otac koji je bio partizan. Baka je ostala sama u siromasnom dalmatinskom selu sa sedmoro djece u zemlji u kojoj je harao rat. Tata je bio najmladje dijete. U ratu su mu dva barta blizanci umrli, pretpostavlja se od gladi I jedna sestra je nestala. Kad je zavrsio prva cetiri razreda osmogodisnje skole baka ga je uzela iz skole I dala kod kovaca da izuci zanat I pomogne u prehranjivanju obitelji. Ucitelji u skoli su ga zapazili kao inteligentno I bistro dijete koje lako I brzo uci I uz pomoc lokalnih vlasti uzeli su ga od bake na silu I stavili u dom u svrhu nastavka skolovanja. To je bila stipendija na koju je imao parvo kao palog borca dijete. Na otoku Ugljanu je zavrsio ostala cetiri razreda osmogodisnje skole polazuci dvije godine u jednoj jer je dvije godine bio izgubio kad je prekinuo skolovanje.
Sve je sa lakocom polozio I pruzena mu je mogucnost odlaska na skolovanje u Zagreb gdje je bio upisan u zubotehnicku skolu. Pricao je poslije da u to vrijeme nije pojma imao sto je to zubotehnicka skola, mislio je da je neka tehnicka. I tu je skolu zavrsio sa lakocom I odlicnim ocjenama I zbog toga dobio sansu da upise fakultet. Sa uspjehom je prosao prijemni ispit na stomatoloskom fakultetu u Zagrebu na kojem se brzo istakno kao jedan od najboljih studenta I bio demonstrator na nekoliko katedri sto se u to vrijeme placalo tako da je poceo zaradjivati jos kao student. Na cetvrtoj godini studija upoznao je prekrasnu mladu zenu u koju se beskrajno zaljubio I ta je ljubav trajala do kraja njegovog zivota. Bila je to moja mama. Mama je bila 6 godina mladja od tate I u dobi od samo 18 godina ostala je trudna samnom. Baka I deda, mamini roditelji nisu uopce bili odusevljeni sa tim sto se desavalo njihovoj jedinici I trazili su da abortira I nastavi skolovanje, zavrsi srednju skolu I upise fakultet. Tata im je porucio da ce ih ubiti ako mama abortira I tako sam se rodila ja. Cesto su mi poslije govorili, kad vremena nisu bila sretna, da sam bila dijete ljubavi.
Tata je volio svoju zenu, ali usprkos tome brak mu je bio vrlo turbulentan I zapravo duboko nesretan. Dijete iz doma I razmazena jedinica cesto nisu mogli naci izlaz iz drama koje su ih potresale I 20 godina prije njegove smrti, mama ga je ostavila. Nikada u tih dvadeset godina nije pogledao niti jednu drugu zenu, premda smo mu to predlagali, I zivio je za svoj posao, svoje pacijente I iznad svega za svoju djecu, mog brata I mene. Bio je brizan tata sa kojim smo dijelili sve sto nas je u zivotu snalazilo. Po karakteru je bio borac koji je prkosio bahatosti I nametnutim autoritetima I citav se zivot zalagao za slabe I nemocne. Radio je godinama bez da bi uzeo I jedan dan godisnjeg odmora I cesto se dizao tokom noci kad bi nekoga od njegovih sumjestana tokom noci zabolio zub.
Tih zadnjih godina zivota od nadimka Dok dodano mu je Stari Dok. Ponekad se pitam dali se mom tati vratilo dobro koje je ucinio za mnoge ljude tokom svog zivota, na nacin da je njegova kcer najtezim trenutcima svog zivota, u dalekog Engleskoj nasla jednog Doka koji ju brizno pazi I pomaze joj.
Kad bih mu barem jos jednom mogla nesto reci rekla bi mu “Tata, dobro smo, ne brini”.
Volimo te
Kristina
Cetvrtak, 4. Ozujka 2021.
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