All the way Home

Today’s book is a bit of a special one, as it’s not one you’ll be able to go out and buy or even see on your online bookshops.

It’s the story of my Grandpa, Roman Zrobek. The story, that he was prompted to write down after a return trip in 2005 to the country of his birth. This was almost sixty years after he had left. As he began to struggle with his memory and also keeping all the pages he’d written in order; we decided as a family to type it up and eventually get it professionally printed and bound to best secure his memories. The words, title and the pictures, (bar the front cover), are his own.  

The 21^st June 2021 would have been his 95^th birthday, (same year as the Queen!) and my whole family have always marked it in some way, (it always sounded special anyway because of midsummer!)

My Grandpa had a intently interesting life, that he rarely spoke about. He was born in the Ukrainian, (then polish) city of L’viv, the only child of his parents, Ivanna  and Wolodmyr . He was fortunate enough to attend grammar school, which meant he learnt a number of different languages; which consequently, in the war would save his life. His mother died when he was young and as the Soviets, followed by the Germans, descended into Eastern Europe, my Grandpa left the city and eventually got picked up by the German army. He became a translator between the Ukrainian and German soldiers as he spoke; Ukrainian, Polish, and German.

His story, was one of movement across a Europe which was being torn apart by war and by its end, he was picked up and arrested by the allied forces, (the British army) and transported on a boat to Liverpool (!!). Despite the hardships and close encounters, or maybe because of them, something I always remember my Grandpa saying was how ‘lucky, lucky, lucky,’ his life had been.

He became a refugee in Britain, after spending two years in a prisoner of war camp, still acting as interpreter and group leader and learning English. Once freed, he was moved around the country as an agricultural labourer/textile worker. He met my Grandmother in an office she worked in that refugees would check into once a week. As they ‘dated’ my Grandmother began learning Ukrainian, (we have a few notebooks of her writing loads of phrases down!). They fell in love and married, a year later my Grandpa would become a naturalised British citizen. Despite restrictions on refugees’ employment and training opportunities, he studied and qualified in design engineering. Eventually, he would be a lead design engineer in creating printing presses, travelling the world with his designs.

What’s the point in telling this? Because, I whole heartedly believe, that every word in this book which he dedicated to me and my cousins (his grandchildren), has shaped who I am today. He begins his story with, ‘My grandchildren, bless them, they may not fully understand it now, but in time I hope they remember me and, especially my deep gratitude for coming to this country which has proved to be my greatest fortune.’

I was only 12 at the time we all pulled this book together and he was still alive and confessedly I would keep reading this bit, and the happy bit when he met Granny. I am proud of my heritage, this country which he could call home and most personally to me I am proud of my sister and I studying in Liverpool, the city he arrived in in that was the start of his new life. He could not have possibly have predicted that so many years down the line his grandchildren would be living here! He was a wonderful Grandpa, who we nick named 'Bob the Builder', because with his garage full of wood and other materials he could literally build anything ....!!!!!

As I’ve become an adult and seen the treatment of refugees, his words come flooding back to my mind even more. That he, wanted me to remember the gratitude he felt about the safety, security and opportunities this country offered him, that meant he could forge what he called his ‘lucky life’.

I don’t want to get too political in this, as it’s a personal piece. I do wonder how accepting, understanding our country would be to him and others like him today. From recent policies and news, I wouldn’t think it would be too friendly. We must always celebrate difference and welcome those seeking a better life, because we never know when our whole world, and everything we’ve ever known will come crashing down around us. The idea of a ‘home’ isn’t something that we are always born into, nor is it always a physical space. The title I think for my grandpa was important, I, and my family were his ‘home’, and he never felt prouder than when we were all sitting round the table for family dinner.

In the words of my wonderful Grandpa, we are lucky, lucky, lucky…