Vladimir Yakovlevich Lyubarskiy, my father, was born in 1935 on the 17th of October in the town of Vinnitsa, Ukraine, which was a part of Soviet Union at the time. He was the oldest of the two brothers, and his parents, Yakov Lyubarskiy and Hanna Malamud, as well as his brother Ilya, four years his junior, loved and worshipped Vladimir as did many other friends and relatives.
Vladimir was an extraordinary man of immense character and strength, and the kindest soul. He was an achiever and a survivor. It is impossible to describe a person and his life in a short note. What comes to mind when I think about dad (“papa” in Russian)? Well, a lot of things. I’ll try to share some of them.
Dad’s brother Ilya always fondly remembers how he looked up to his older brother. How protective and supportive Vadik – dad’s nickname for the family and close friends – had been. How once Vadik brought a wounded baby eagle home and took care of it until the eagle was strong enough and could fly. How Vadik had a perfect pitch and played violin. How Vadik kept an eye on the bashful younger brother who wasn’t fond of studying at all, and made sure Ilya finishes high school and goes on to college.
As a young man in Soviet Ukraine, Vladimir was obligated to serve in the army. Vladimir served as a paratrooper, and his two grandchildren, Andy and Misha (Michael), always remember grandpa’s stories about him completing several dozen parachute jumps from an airplane mandatory for a paratrooper in training, and then some more jumps in place of those buddies of his who were too scared to jump.
Vladimir came to Moscow, Russia from Ukraine. A family legend says that he was sent to a family friend’s house to deliver a letter. Little that he knew, it was a matchmaker’s ploy. The family he was delivering the letter to had two young daughters, my mom Musya and my aunt Nina. The idea was that my dad meets Nina, the older daughter, but my dad saw my mom Musya, and the rest was history. Mom often remembered that dad was as handsome as Gerard Philipe, a prominent French actor of that time (frankly, looking at the pictures, I think dad was much more handsome), and that he had such a nice voice and always sang to mom, who herself couldn’t sing at all and would render even a simple nursery song unrecognizable.
I find that there is this type of a person, who is active at all times, has multiple interests, always finds things to do, always keeps going. My dad was this type of a person. He completed his PhD in mechanical engineering in Moscow, went on to work in a Research Institute of Metalwork and Tools (a lose translation from Russian for Всесоюзный Научно-исследовательский Инструментальный Институт), where he became a Scientific Secretary – a prominent scientific title at that time. He also wrote number of technical publications and served as an adjunct professor in one of the prominent engineering colleges in Moscow, where he dedicated a lot of time to teaching students with hearing and speech impairment.
Dad built most of our home furniture completely on his own. My grandfather (“dedushka” in Russian stands for “grandpa”) on my mom’s side, dad’s father in law, loved my dad as his own son. Dedushka Volodya had a small country-house in Moscow suburbs. My dad installed sewerage, heating system and running water in that house with his own hands. Thanks to that, we could offer a temporary home to relatives from Ukraine, who were escaping the Chernobyl disaster. Those relatives, now living in New Jersey, called me in shock and with deepest condolences when they got the news of my father passing.
Some random memories come to mind. Wages were very modest in Soviet Russia for teachers and engineers like my mom and my dad. So dad went to the Island of Sakhalin, where some intelligentsia men would go for extra wages to support their families. He worked in construction for several months. When dad returned, I remember a huge jar of red caviar he brought, perhaps a gallon or more. That was considered such a great delicacy! Dad apportioned the caviar into smaller glass jars as gifts for multiple friends and relatives. We kept just a tiny little jar for ourselves.
Dad always traveled everywhere by car. Owning a car was quite a luxury those days in Russia. Using some of the Sakhalin earned money as well as years worth of savings, my parents managed to get a newer model of Zhiguli, a typical soviet car at that time. Dad was very happy. We traveled during the summer vacation to the Black Sea in Crimea and Caucasus, to Ukraine and Moldova to visit relatives, to Poland and Bulgaria, which was as far as the Soviet regime would let us go. Dad loved to go places, see sights, meet people. Once, dad and I traveled together from Moscow through Ukraine and ultimately to Moldova to visit my unkle Ilya’s family, where they lived at the time. On one of the roads near the town of Korostyshev, Ukraine, a large moose suddenly appeared in front of our car. Later, dad recalled making an instantaneous decision: his daughter – me – on the right, the car would go into a deep ditch if he turned right – can’t go there; moose looking straight at him with his big confused eyes, - can’t go forward; dad turned into the incoming traffic to the left… He sustained the most horrible injuries, his spleen burst into pieces, his pancreas was damaged, his ribs were broken. I came out of this accident with a bruised back and quickly recovered. My dad protected me as always throughout my life, whether I was a little girl or a grown woman. Did I mention dad was a survivor? He recovered from this horrible accident thanks to a prompt actions by an experienced local surgeon and, undoubtedly, thanks to his own physical and mental strength and will power.
My parents came to America to be with me and help me raise a family as I was finishing my Doctorate and starting a fulltime job. Although my parents just retired and it’s quite an undertaking to help with two little boys, my dad remained active in other ways. He surprised everyone by taking massage therapy classes, he also helped an acquaintance working in construction. Dad continued traveling, and since he was in the free world now, he visited places where he couldn’t go from former Soviet Russia. He visited and reconnected with friends and relatives in US, Europe and Israel. He remained interested in world politics and culture, was always abreast of the world news and events.
Vladimir was a loving and dedicated husband. He and mom were always together. I almost never heard dad say “I” or “me”. It was always “Musya” or “Musya and I”. Mom passed away about three years ago from a nasty incurable cancer, and dad continued wearing his wedding bend and still started most of his conversations with “Musya and I”. With that, not only did he stoically coped with the loss of his beloved wife, he remained my rock and my anchor during the time of grief and loss, as I was very close to my mom and was beyond devastated by her untimely passing.
Vladimir was a terrific grandfather. Being a grandfather was his job, his hobby and his passion. He took care of his grandsons Andy and Misha (Michael) from the day they were born till the day he fell ill with Covid. Dedushka (grandpa) was with his grandsons almost every day of their lives. He drove them to preschool, and then to kindergarten and school and then to all their multiple activities practically every day a week. He spoiled them immensely by buying them toys and snacks they wanted. He helped with their projects, their chores, their laundry. Andy and Misha were never worried about forgetting something or not having something they needed but didn’t think of. They always knew that a forgotten textbook, or a sandwich, or money for a field trip, or even a student ID or a driver license were a phone call away. A phone call to dedushka, who would magically appear and save the day. It’s is immensely sad to think about the timing of dedushka’s passing as coinciding with completing his last grandfatherly duty by seeing his youngest grandson graduate from high school and ready to go to college. His precious grandkids Andy and Misha are grown now, don’t need dedushka’s help anymore. But dad, do I have to tell you we weren’t ready to lose you? Your grandsons love you dearly, they need you just the same, they will miss you with all their hearts! We all will.
Dad and I traveled in Europe just this past fall. He was as active and vibrant as ever. He walked for miles tirelessly. He enjoyed sightseeing and local food. He hiked volcano Etna in Sicily. He visited his brother Ilya for his 80s birthday in Germany and spent some time with his brother’s family and grandkids. Independent, young and strong for his age, interested in nature, travel, people. I cannot fully comprehend that this was dad’s last big trip.
Vladimir will be greatly missed by many. By his immediate family, by the many friends and relatives both far and near. Dad, papochka, you were always there for me. And I felt so utterly helpless that I couldn’t be with you for this past month of your illness. That I couldn’t help you. That I couldn’t save you. I’m told I should be feeling grateful and lucky that I had you by my side into my 50s. But I feel like a little girl suddenly left standing alone in the world without the most important male figure in my life. Dad, you’ve always been there for me in good days and bad, always helped with your calmness, strength and words of wisdom. It truly seemed that nothing was impossible for you and that you’d be with us as active and as full of life into your hundreds. You fought this horrific corona virus for a month, and all the doctors and nurses were impressed by your strength and couldn’t believe you kept fighting for as long as you did.
Vladimir Yakovlevich Lyubarskiy, a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a grandfather, a friend, a relative, a great human being, you’ll be forever missed, you’ll stay forever in our hearts.
Yelena Lyubarskaya, your grieving daughter
In lieu of sending flowers please kindly consider a donation in memory of my father to the Russian Program at Hebrew Senior Life. You may issue checks to Hebrew RehabilitationCenter with a memo on the check “For Bilingual Russian Program”. Please address the envelope to:
Hebrew Rehabilitation Center
1200 Centre Street
Roslindale MA 02131
Attn: Alexandra Dashevskaya.
You may also use a link on HSL website
Www.hebrewseniorlife.org/russian and look for a button Donate.
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