Last May, I returned to Macedonia as a Peace Corps Response Volunteer, over four years after completing my original service. It had been a smooth and joyful rediscovery, until I met the first regular Peace Corps Volunteer in my area. Looking back, it now seems utterly appropriate that it was the beginning of a startling, ethereal and unforgettable experience. The first time I saw Helene Wade, she was standing in the doorway of an apartment where I had once experienced moments of... well, personal passion and public collective joy. One rosy dawn of November 2008 in that same space, eleven American citizens cheered and cried as Barack Obama was declared the next President of the USA. I can still see Helene standing in the threshold to that apartment four years later. The moment is so clear to me, that start of our friendship, but now for a totally different reason. I had no way of knowing then its intensity or brevity.
Helene and I had a great deal in common, and the three months that we overlapped in Bitola were filled with laughter and respect, support and appreciation. In a way, the three month limit made it all the more powerful, because it magnified the moment and also made us cautious of becoming too close. We knew what we had; we knew who we were for each other, without need for any fuss. We were there for each other in such a comfortable way, with a good wide margin for the quirkier sides.
We were drawn to the same things, and often collected stuff together. She inevitably would make a purse or shoes out of the stuff, and I usually opted for a sculpture. As it happens here, we got a lot of attention from all manner of citizenry. People would ask if we were sisters, lovers, nurses, professional athletes(!), it was all mystifying to us. Children she knew would run with abandon to her outstretched arms. In such moments, she was without any of the guard she sometimes had. Her beautiful face was 100 % engaged with each child. That kind of passionate feeling and commitment was impossible for her to suppress.
I have many stories I could tell of Helene’ s selfless contribution to my projects at the Bitola Zoo. We laughed our way through so many engagements last summer. During my last week of service, I found a brand new kitten in a dumpster and nursed it along. Helene took it and we had a tentative plan that I would pick up the kitty at the airport when she returned. Unfortunately, the kitty did not make it past infancy. Helene was devastated. She buried it at the foot of the hill leading to the zoo.
In early February 2013, after she was back, I wrote her and said“ Can’ t we pretend you still have the kitty so I can come and visit you?” She wrote back. My note had reached her four days after her diagnosis.
She asked me not to tell anyone. She was very clear on how she wanted to live for the four to six months that she had left. She was clear and sure in her recognition that she had a great life, accomplished what she wanted and would not be seeking any invasive medical procedures.
I honored her wishes of course, and only hope that this letter is not a violation of those wishes. When someone we love dies, it is we, the living, who is left, and who have the opportunity to be closer in the loss, to be more conscious of the precious gift we share.
In April 2013, I drove to West Virginia to spend a weekend with Helene. Everything in and outside her house was so clearly shaped and created by her. Peace enveloped everything.
She stayed mostly on the couch downstairs. Her son, Hane, moved home from California to care for her. She had a fabulous doctor. She was not in pain. Only close friends knew, and stayed close. Birds and green hills filled her view.
We all – Helene, Hane, his girlfriend and me – slept downstairs, in the open space of the one-room first floor. No one wanted to be out of arms’ reach from each other.
We did not talk about the past or the future. The laughter outpaced the tears. She accepted the reality of her situation with such grace, and passed on that grace to us. I dreaded the moment I would leave, but Helene took care of me.
She gave me this – this beaded Magnolia leaf. She said it was her last one because they took too much energy and time for her to make them anymore. It takes my breath away every day. Startling, ethereal and unforgettable- just like her.
– Mary T. O’ Connor, MAK 11 and PCRV Macedonia 2012
I remember the first time I saw Helene. She stood out from the rest of the swarm of Peace Corps Volunteers that had gathered for the fall 2011 field day in Skopje. She was beautiful, elegant, with her long, silvery hair. She was composed, eloquent, and gentle, yet fiery and spirited. She was not afraid to tell it like it is. She stood out from the rest. I remember thinking“ I want to know this woman.”
Several months later I moved to my new site near Bitola and was delighted to discover that Helene was living nearby. It turns out I owe my Peace Corps site placement to her. My counterpart, Nikolina, met Helene through their work with the Lifestart preschools in Bitola. Helene must have made an excellent impression on my counterpart, because Nikolina proceeded to apply for a Peace Corps Volunteer for this little village of Novaci, five miles east of Bitola. Helene accompanied Nikolina through the application process, and even made multiple trips to Novaci to scout out my work site and give her input on where I would live. I find comfort knowing that Helene was here paving the way for me in my village long before I arrived, making sure everything was set for the new volunteer. My site placement, from my landlord to my work site to my fabulous counterpart, is a perfect fit. Thank you, Helene, for making this possible. Thank you for your warm welcome that first time we met at Kyc-Kyc restaurant on a very COLD night in Bitola. Your legacy continues to live on here in Macedonia, here in Bitola, and even here in Novaci, where our hearts( both Macedonian and American) are breaking as we grieve your passing.
Lots of LOVE,-Hana Truscott, MAK 16