My mother Jelena was born in Belgrade, Serbia on March 4, 1922. Her parents were Ilija and Zorka Bogdanovic. She was the second child of four children that Ilija had in his second marriage. His first wife and four children died during the WWI from yellow fever, but two survived, her older half-brother Dejan and older half-sister Petkana. Jelena, known as Jela, grew up in the company of her three brothers: Milivoje (Mile), Berislav (Beli) and Vojislav (Voja).
Ilija Bogdanovic was a well-known house builder and developer in Belgrade between the two great wars. Many multi-story buildings carry his insignia at their top facades. His wife, to be my future grandmother Zorka, was from the town of Ljubovija on the bank of river Drina separating Serbia from Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Jela grew up in a house full of children, mostly boys, but she was able to keep up with them on equal footing. Ilija built a swimming pool on the back of his house in Zorina 80, in Belgrade, and there were always a lot of kids from the neighborhood at the pool.
Jela grew up to be a beautiful young woman. She liked to say that she had a lot of suitors even when she was only fourteen or fifteen since she looked mature for her age.
There were a lot of activities in their home, and they were well known as a good and influential family in Belgrade. In addition to being a businessman, Ilija later held an office in the City Council.
My parents, Jelena Bogdanovic and Vladimir Korenic, met in downtown Belgrade in 1941 at the “Corso” area where young people used to walk in the early evening hours. My father used to follow my future Mom from Corso, with her girlfriends, to her home to find out where she lived. It turned out that he and his parents lived earlier on the same street, several houses down, and rented an apartment from my future grandfather, Ilija. This was an amazing coincidence! My Dad actually said later that he always recalled the Bogdanovic family as the family with a lot of children (and a lot of noise!).
My parents dated during the war time, and my father did not want to get married during such time. While they were on a date in 1944, suddenly the sirens came on and shortly after that the bombs started falling down from the sky, and they had to go to the first good basement they could find to hide. After the sirens announced the end of the bombing, they would come out and continued with their date. They were so young, and adaptable to various situations, that they took these events like a part of daily life under occupation. This was Allied bombing campaign near the end of the war against the Germans, but many civilians were killed in those raids.
The following story shows how my future mother was devoted to her family. After Belgrade was liberated by partisans in October 1944, Jela’s father Ilija was arrested with many other well-known citizens who signed the German petition calling population to remain calm. She literally saved his life by following the soldiers who arrested him to find out where they kept him. Then she alarmed all influential people in Belgrade who knew her family. Since Ilija had a lot of friends including those influential in the resistance during the war, he was released several days later, but most of the people in his group were shot several days after his release. After that, Ilija often talked about this event and told us if he had not had a daughter like Jela, he would not have survived the war.
My parents finally got married after the war on August 10, 1946. For their honeymoon, they went by train to Dubrovnik in the southern Croatian Adriatic coast. They later resided in the same house where Dad’s parents lived, in Belgrade, Brace Nedica 23. This was an old home, narrow and long with the side yard with garden. Dad’s parents moved to the inner part of the building keeping two rooms for them, and my parents took the front three rooms. My grandfather Ilija made a small bathroom for them by dividing the entry hall into two sections. My grandparents kept the main bathroom for themselves.
My parents had two children. I was the first born (May 17, 1947) and my sister Milica, named after her grandmother, five years later (May 31, 1952). Both of us were born in Belgrade, Serbia.
My mother Jelena was a very self-sacrificing woman and took a great care of me and my Dad. She was on a competing path with my grandmother Milica who was always trying to correct her when it came to me or my Dad. Maybe it was a mother’s jealousy that she lost her son over her daughter-in-law. On the other side, my grandfather David liked my Mom and was trying to calm down my grandmother on various occasions.
In May 1952, my sister Milica was born. We were very excited! Things started with a good rhythm as my sister was growing up, we lived in a good family harmony.
My mother was a quick woman of action, and she kept our little home spotless. She was washing all the cloths by hand since at that time we had no washing or drying machines at home. She was drying washed clothes in the back yard on stretched rope on sunny days and she was ironing everything. I was always well dressed in clean and ironed cloths. I was sometimes complaining since she put starch in some shirts to look even better. She was taking rigorous and exemplar care of me and my sister and everybody in our neighborhood would notice this and give her praise.
She, as well as Dad, did everything in their power to raise us as good children at the times when money was tight. Regardless of financial situation, our Mom found her way to have our meals on the table every day and we felt no real effect of the financial struggle. She would go to the open market place very early every other day to bargain with the peasants who would bring fresh produce from their villages. She carried heavy bags home on foot. This “Kaleniceva Pijaca” was about five city blocks of buildings from our home. By the time we were up, she had on the table fresh food for us, such as fresh young cheese, burek, or pogacice, and yogurt for me since I hated milk.
When we started with school, our mother was regularly working with us just to be sure we produced the best possible quality homework, while our Dad was working on various papers translating them from one foreign language to another. This was in addition to his regular full time job he had at the Yugoslav Standards Institution.
Mom and Dad were always supporting me and my sister, and they made us what we are today. They together instilled us the quality and the sense of loyalty and responsibility for all our future actions in life. For this we owe them both something so big that cannot be valued by any monetary means.
Our Mom was always well dressed, with make-up on even when money was in short supply. My father was also always well dressed with freshly ironed white shirt and a tie, when he went to work. She took care of all of us and the household work honestly and from her heart in spite of the fact that she suffered from a high blood pressure since her second pregnancy with my sister. Both of us had a beautiful childhood and for this we owe it to both of our parents for their self-sacrifice to make us happy at all times.
The next life event shows my Mother’s devotion to her family and how she knew to fight like a tiger when necessary. In the spring of 1958 my father got very sick. He was getting a fever every afternoon and by morning it would go away just to return back the following evening. This situation was getting worse, and he finally had to check into a hospital. The doctors could not find the problem, and Dad was losing weight and the strength. He had a large count of white blood cells. My mother was desperate with two little children, but was determined to fight vigorously with the doctors who were giving up, since they could not find any problem. Dad was resistant to all available antibiotics. After three months, my mother got in touch accidentally with a friend and the neighbor who was a professor of dentistry. This doctor, Mrs. Krajnovic, offered to take a look at my Dad. Immediately, she discovered that our Dad had a bad and acute case of tonsil septic infection, and so she diagnosed the source of his sickness. When she touched his tonsils, the heavy puss started coming out of them. The hospital doctors at first refused to accept this diagnosis, because this made them feel foolish. Soon, my mother took our Dad out from this hospital, and under the direction of Dr. Krajnovic, prepared our father for the tonsil operation in another hospital specialized for ear, throat and nose problems. Soon after the operation our Dad started gaining weight and recovering from his “mysterious” sickness. This was the time when our Mom performed at her best and saved our Dad from his certain death. This is how our mother was, and we were all very proud of her talking about this event for many years to come.
This is how our 1950’s and 1960’s passed. The country was recovering from a big war and it was not the same as across the ocean where these years were the booming years.
Our lives dramatically changed in 1970 when Dad got a job as a United Nations Advisor in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Money was not so tight anymore and we could breathe more freely and happily than ever before. Our Yugoslav years were in good part behind us and our lives would never be the same again.
For our mother this was a period of new challenges. In their house in Ethiopia she received help for household daily jobs like preparing meals, doing dishes and cleaning the house. We now had a servant, common in Ethiopia among foreign technical personnel. My mother assumed an advisory role in planning our meals and organizing parties for other UN families in Addis. She had now more time during the day to go out shopping with my sister, something she always loved to do. My sister stayed with them in Addis first year and attended the last grade of high school in the American Community School. They also would often go to a local swimming pool at the Addis Hilton, where they would spend several hours in the morning.
Thinking back, I conclude that the 70’s were my parent’ best years, well-deserved, and rewarding for my Dad’s career. He blossomed in his job and my Mom was there to support him in every way. In many ways this was their reward for all those years of hardship they had before while we were small children.
In summer 1972 my sister Milica got married in Ethiopia to Mr. Avo Sevadjian. The Sevadjians were very well known family in Addis. It was a big wedding in Addis on August 27, 1972, and it was very exciting for my Mom. She had a lot of work to do at the time and she got to know a lot of new people. She also gained a lot of new Armenian family.
On February 3, 1974 my Mom became a grandmother. Milica and Avo had a baby boy, named Kevork. At first, they called him Kevolig or George (Djordje), but finally under the pressure from the Sevadjians our Kevolig became Kevork, or Kevork junior, and remained with this form of his name to this day. Our mother quickly assumed the role of grandmother and enjoyed it tremendously.
Soon Ethiopia went through a turmoil and revolution. The Emperor Haile Selassie fell, and the new communist regime was established. Shortly after celebrating Kevolig’s first birthday, my sister with her son and my Mom left Ethiopia for Belgrade. Soon Avo left Ethiopia, too.
Life once more challenged all of us and our Mom was again on her feet fighting for her children and her family. After a year in Switzerland and Italy, my sister Milica with her husband and little son Kevork, were admitted to Canada. They settled in Ontario province and became citizens.
Our Mom again joined her husband who was still working in Ethiopia. He completed his mission there in December 1976 and shortly after that he got a new assignment in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, in West Africa. They spent three years in the Ivory Coast. These were their nice and quiet years. While my father worked my mother during the day used to take taxi to hotel Ivoire, where she would spend several hours knitting needlepoint pictures, called the “goblen” pictures, which they framed and kept later at their home in Belgrade. Eventually, these hand knitted pictures ended up in our homes in Canada and USA, with me and my sister. We have them on our walls in our living rooms and they remind us of our Mom every day.
Mom had a “boy” in Abidjan who was cooking and cleaning the rental apartment. This was customary in Ivory Coast.
My mother gained some weight there and unfortunately in addition to the high blood pressure, developed the Type Two Diabetes. She was supposed to stay on a prescribed diet, but she was not strict with it. She treated her sickness with the prescribed pills at the time. She was only 56 years old. Unfortunately, this disease was hereditary in her family from her mother’s side.
Mom was rather lonely in Ivory Coast. It was different than in Addis Ababa, where my sister was with them. Just when she became the grandmother, they got separated by a big Atlantic ocean by the life circumstances. Though, I must say, they did find several nice friends in Abidjan. These people were from Holland. They were willing to help my Dad in various situations in the house or with the car.
In fall 1980, my Mom came to Purdue University with a new mission. I was at Purdue finishing my Ph.D. dissertation. In the meantime, I signed a contract with a firm in Baltimore for my first job in the USA, and I had a deadline to meet. Mom came to help me for this transition. While I was writing my thesis she went out shopping for furniture and all necessary household items. We planned to ship all of that to Columbia, Maryland, where I had rented an unfurnished apartment.
I defended my doctoral thesis in late December 1980, and Mom and I moved out from West Lafayette, Indiana on December 24, 1980. We found ourselves driving from Indiana to Maryland on Christmas Day, December 25th, through blizzard weather. These were the situations when my mother was at her best; she fought like a lioness. Finally, on 27th of December we arrived to Columbia, Maryland with my car, but our truck with my belongings and the brand new furniture was stuck in the snow for the next two weeks.
This really was the time when my mother stood up the best. While I was working at my new job, she organized and decorated my new apartment in record time. She soon started cooking in my new place and everything was okay again. Things were rolling at full speed.
Dad finished his mission in Ivory Coast and retired from the U.N. He joined us in late January 1981, and they both stayed with me until early spring of that year. These were the times I will never forget. While I was at work, both of them were driving around, mostly stopping at the Columbia Mall and buying things they felt I needed in my new home. We would always eat dinners together and after that watch television shows. They were impressed with shows such as Dynasty, Falcon Crest, and Dallas. At that time my Dad was 71 years old and Mom was 59. On weekends, we used to take day trips around the area.
This was the beginning of a new decade for my parents, and new very different challenges were ahead for my Mom. They had now a new life rhythm. They were back in Belgrade every spring, and then they would come to North America every fall to stay with me in the USA and my sister and her family in Canada. My Mom enjoyed this arrangement very much. Every year she would bring us some things from their home in Belgrade. These were old family pictures, various family memorabilia and the clothes she bought back home for us.
In Belgrade, my parents still had a substantial number of my Mom’s family and family friends. There, they had a good time in late spring, summer, and early fall. We were constantly in touch by phone. The phones were ringing in many directions: Belgrade – Columbia, Belgrade – Mississauga, Columbia – Mississauga. By the way, my sister and her family lived in Mississauga since their arrival to Canada in 1976. Later in early 1980’s they moved to Oakville, Ontario. Mom was now called “Baka” by her two grandchildren, Kevork and Helen (born in Canada in October 1977).
I made several short trips back home to Belgrade in 1983, 1984, and 1985. Then, we would all together travel to the Adriatic Seaside and Italy. These were also memorable years which made my Mom very happy.
When I finally got married to my wife Lauren in June 1988, my parents organized a beautiful party in the hotel Yugoslavia in New Belgrade. Once again for the last time the entire family got together for this occasion. This was very emotional time for both of my parents but especially for my Mom. Things were changing, and they knew it. Their visits to my place in Columbia, Maryland would never be the same as they used to be. I told my parents that they were welcome to come as before, and that they would always have a room.
In September 1989 my daughter Stephanie was born, Baka’s dear Stephy, her third grandchild. Now my Mom had a new job with new challenges. When in Columbia, Maryland with us, she and Dad would take little Stephy out to Columbia Mall almost every day, and three of them would spend precious time together.
The 1990’s came, and with them the unrest in Yugoslavia. On our advice, my parents moved permanently to Canada in November 1991. At first they stayed with my sister’s family and later rented their own apartment. We bought a new townhouse in August 1992, and now my parents had their bedroom upstairs next to Stephy’s room, while we were on the opposite side of the same floor. My wife’s mother Shirley stayed in the fourth bedroom in the basement. She liked it because there was easy access to the back yard. The life got a little more complicated, but our yearly routines remained the same. Our parents would still come to visit us from Canada in November each year and return to Canada in early April of the following year. We were always spending major holidays together. For my Mom this was of exceptional importance. Each time they came to visit us, Stephy would be getting a lot of new clothes. Every time they went out with her to the Mall, Stephy would come home with something new, either a new piece of clothing or a nice new toy.
In 1996 my parents celebrated their Golden Wedding Anniversary. This was on August 10 while they were staying with me.
Mom’s health started to deteriorate in late 1990’s. The sale of her apartment in Belgrade in 1998 took its toll, and left a deep mark on her. She knew there was no going to Belgrade anymore.
Diabetes affected her vision and she also developed heart problems. Mom was no more as quick as she used to be. My parents last time visited us together in 1999, when we took them to Williamsburg, Virginia. Mom enjoyed the trip, but it was noticeable that she had health problems. Both of them enjoyed being with us, but they knew this was the end of their travels together. My mother felt all right at her home, where she knew where her things were, as well as the physical configuration of her furniture in her rooms, but in the rented apartment in Williamsburg she noticed she could not get around due to her failing vision. She was actually legally blind at the time, seeing things as shadows in a dark background. She could recognize us only when we were up close, and she would touch our faces just to be sure that we were indeed we.
Another big event took place in summer of 2000. This was indeed one of very few remaining major events for my Mom. Her dear grand-daughter Helen got married on July 8, 2000 to a wonderful young man named George from Oakville, Ontario. For this event, my Mom put together all her remaining strength to get ready and to attend this wedding.
In 2001 my mother had a heart attack while in the hospital for another reason. She was in a coma for 5 days, and succeeded to pull out and survive but she was not anymore as happy and cheerful as she used to be. She was mostly sitting in her armchair in the living room, or sleeping in her bedroom. She was suffering from fluid swelling in her legs and lungs. Doctors gave her a prognosis to live for only a few more years.
After this event with my mother, we took every major holiday to travel by car or by airplane to Canada and spend time with her and Dad. Each time we would have a big family dinner at my sister’s home. My Mom enjoyed this very much.
In 2001, Helen had her first baby. It was a boy, whom they named Kristian. This was my Mom’s first great grandson.
In March 2002, we celebrated our Mom’s 80th birthday. This was a big party organized by Helen and George at their home, with a significant assistance of my sister Milica. It was a beautiful and memorable event. Both of my parents were deeply moved with the attention given to them on that day.
We again visited my parents for Easter 2004. Mom was struggling with the fluid in her legs, and a nurse was coming every week to check her feet, which had some cuts that would not heal. The situation had not improved and she eventually had to check into the hospital in Oakville. All of us came back to see her in June 2004 in the hospital just at the time when the specialist diagnosed her with two out of three major arteries in the left leg clogged. Considering her weak heart condition, advanced stage of diabetes, and related high blood pressure, he recommended no action or any attempt to unclog the bad arteries or do bypass. There was a possibility to cut her bad leg just above her knee, but doctor said she would not survive this operation. The doctor said that any medical procedure in her case would be deadly for her and recommended that she spends her last three to five months in peace relaxing with heavy pain medication.
We were in a state of shock, feeling for the first time totally helpless, as we watched our dear mother slowly fade away.
We celebrated in the hospital our parents’ 58th wedding anniversary on August 10, 2004. Mom was still in reasonably good shape and enjoyed this event very much. The family was with her, and she and Dad were happy together for one more last time.
Another major event happened to my mother just about the same time. Her grand-daughter Helen delivered two days earlier her second baby boy, whom they named Sebastian. So, my Mom now had two great grandsons.
Mom remained in the hospital the rest of her time until the end of October 2004. I was seeing her twice a month. I would arrive there on Friday afternoon by air, and leave on Monday morning for Baltimore, and then in the afternoon straight to work.
When in Oakville, we would talk in the hospital room and she was very happy to see me and Dad staying with her. My sister Milica was seeing her daily since her home was not so far from the hospital. At first, she was very sharp and talkative about her days in the hospital, about her room mates, and her hospital food. She had a bed next to the window, and she was enjoying watching the sky since it was the source of light she badly needed to see more than the shades in the room, because of her lack of vision. The nurses were giving her continuously high dosages of antibiotics and other medications for her heart and diabetes. She was daily medically monitored. Often, they would put her to the wheelchair and we would take her to a private room for a chat. I think she at first believed that she would by some miracle survive and that the bad foot would take care of itself by drying off. But she was weaker and weaker as the time was passing by. Her last good month was September of 2004.
I saw my mother last time alive during my regular visit one week before she died. My sister was talking to her and giving her some food and water. She did not recognize me. I kissed her as always before I left. The gangrene was now fast developing in her left leg.
The following Sunday, October 31, 2004, I received a phone call from my sister at 7:30 in the morning, telling me that our dear mother passed away at 7:05 a.m. The same afternoon I was on the plane for Canada, where I arrived the same evening.
Now everything was different. We lost our dear Mom... It was a big funeral. A large number of people came to pay their last respects. She was laid to rest on November 2nd at the Trafalgar Lawn Cemetery in Oakville, Ontario at 1280 Dundas Street Way. We stayed another few days in Oakville with my Dad and my sister. It was very said and we had to learn how to deal with this new reality. My Mom’s life made a full cycle, and she was in God’s hands. And what life it was, rich and happy, hard and rewarding, a kind of life we all want to have.
I described her life story here on eight typed pages, but it would take a book to describe it the way it really was for the sake of our future generations. She has done many good things in her life, but most of all she gave life to me and my sister, and through us she gave lives of her three grandchildren and two great grandchildren. For this we will always be grateful to her. She will remain in our hearts forever.
Written by her son, Dr. Branislav Korenic