Meeting my relatives

Not long ago my mom told me a story. We used to live in a house of my paternal grandparents and one day mom found little porcelain toys in an attic. She said to my grandmom: “These are surely for Pina to play with.” Grandmom answered harshly: “No, these toys are for some other relatives, not for Pina.”

By coincidence I met these people who had received these toys. Gathering the data for my family tree I asked my aunt to arrange a meeting this summer with some relatives that were unknown to me and to my father. I met a daughter of my grandmom’s cousin and her two sons who are about my age. I wonder what they really thought of us – some strange relatives from the city visiting them. I guess they have a happy and satisfying life. At least it seems so.

From the stories that were told to us we realized how much my grandmom loved these people; much more than she loved us - her children and grandchildren. It is a pity that I was too young then when she was still alive that I didn’t care about my relatives. Today I would love to hear her stories about her mom and grandmom (that nobody can tell today anymore). Well, I heard one story about my great grandmom anyway. At 20 years of age she was a cook in one of the famous Ljubljana’s inns. One day a man approached and gave a tiny leaflet into her hand. On it it was written that he wanted her to be his wife. If she had refused the man’s offer you wouldn’t be reading these lines today.