Sugar Bowl

Dear readers, as I share a chapter from Evangelia’s life, let's see how a simple sugar bowl weaves into the tapestry of love and legacy, much like the roses that surround it.

Each morning I make sure to feed the oil lamp before my iconostasis. In front of my family icons is a black and white small photo: Evangelia and Nicolas, seated on a hill framed with large rose bushes in bloom. I offer a silent prayer, a nod to the love and memories they represent.

Near my stove, there's an empty, made in England, ‘Old Country Rose' sugar bowl. A simple sterling silver sugar spoon, a memento from my mother's early days in Canada, lies within it. Their presence stand as symbols—of aspiration, history, and the multi-layered nuances of Evangelia's journey.

In 1936, Evangelia was a little girl of eleven. That’s when her father became ill and passed away suddenly, leaving her mother a widow with five mouths to feed. Evangelia, although not the eldest, was deemed the most capable, and was pulled out of school to help support her family.

You see, her sister, Paraskevi, named after the healing saint of the Greek Orthodox faith, suffered from epilepsy. Despite St. Paraskevi’s legend of healing Roman Emperor Antonius Pius’s eyesight—only to be subsequently martyred for her faith—our family's Paraskevi couldn't mirror her namesake's miracles. And that’s when Evangelia swapped schoolbooks for brooms and lessons for labour, serving in aristocratic homes where every dish, every vase, told stories of a world far removed from hers. My grandmother washed clothes while my mother worked for a British man, his wife and their children.

Many years later and now in Canada, Evangelia began collecting English China, especially in the 'Old Country Roses,' pattern. Carefully curated, her China collection expanded to include dinner service for twelve. These dishes, lined with gold and framed with deep red roses in full bloom, were reserved for special occasions —Christmas, Easter, and significant life events, such as my high school graduation.

Years later, in therapy, when I learned about the impacts of generational trauma— I came to understand how my mother's fascination with ‘Old Country Roses’ dishes were tied to the promise of a better life; they represented a world of beauty and grace she once glimpsed amidst hardship.

Today, this empty sugar bowl remains a talisman echoing the sacrifices and dreams of those who came before me. Evangelia’s story reminds me that while pain might be inherited , so is resilience.