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