Hubert Mikusch

stubborn, determined, and will-power that you’ve never seen before. This is a man that did his

duty to his family, through any pain, and physical discomfort. That no matter the situation, he

made certain his family was safe, secure, and protected. But we can’t forget he also lived life to

the fullest, travelling Europe when he was a young man, having adventures, and he had a great

love for all family and friends.

Dad was born in Austria, to Kathy and Anton Mikusch, and raised in Karnten (Carinthia). Our

childhoods were filled with many stories of him growing up on a family farm, the adventures he

had, and the inevitable trouble he would get in. How I wish I could turn back the clock and save

all those old stories. Some are clear in my mind, others are hazy memories. I recall how he

talked about skiing when he was young, his chores on the farm, I remember him talking about

the barn cats - and how they would come for fresh milk from the cattle. I recall him talking

about, and telling stories about all the workers on the farm; how they all sat down for meals

together.

Dad would have been 9 years old when WW2 started; and almost 15 when it ended. Such a

pivotal time in a young man’s life. Dad was the oldest of the children, and likely expected to do

much around the homestead. I recall his stories about raising HUGE rabbits…He raised them so

the family would have extra meat for the table during the war, and for bartering. He told us

that when he needed new trousers, he took 2 butchered rabbits, got on his bicycle, and rode

about 1.5 hours to a nearby city. There he went to a tailor, and traded the meat for new

trousers, picking them up a few weeks later. How many young teenagers do you know that

would bike that far for new pants?

I remember him talking about his father during the war. My grandfather had already survived a

war, and had permanent injuries. As he spoke more than one language in WW2 he was

expected to listen and spy on his neighbours. I remember Dad telling us that his father had

instead told them off, and refused. Punishment for that, as I understand it, was to be sent to

guard bridges, etc., since he couldn’t physically do anything else. I’m telling this story as this is

where my father got his stubbornness, strength, and knowing right from wrong from. If you

knew my Dad, you would understand this comment. We used to joke that in the dictionary,

under the word “stubborn”, was Dad’s photo, lol.

The stories I recall after the war when Dad was a young man usually involved, Bikes: bicycle’s

and motorbikes. I know he used to bicycle race, but don’t think he raced motorbike’s, at least

he didn’t tell us, lol. I know he travelled around Europe on the motorbike, and a story my Uncle

Hans told me of travelling with him. Hans would sleep on the back, with his head on dad’s

shoulders, knowing he was safe with his big brother. Dad was also very athletic as a young man

also. He loved hiking, swimming, and boxing, and throughout his life, loved to watch sports on

TV, hockey, football, soccer, boxing, all of it!

In Europe, Dad was trained as a Tailor. That still makes me smile…such a strong, physical man

who could do such delicate work. He actually wanted to be a Carpenter, but didn’t have that

opportunity while in Austria…hence becoming a Tailor. From Austria, he moved to Switzerland,

and while there started Carpentry training. By the time he moved to Canada, he achieved his

goal of working in Carpentry full time. He worked the remote camps in Saskatchewan,

Manitoba, and BC.

Dad, I believe, did 3 trips between North America and Europe on the old fashioned Ocean

Liners. I’m pretty sure they all came/went from New York. He talked a lot about these trips,

and how much he enjoyed them. The food, the dancing, the girls, lol...Dad was definitely a

lady’s man. He loved being on the big ships, exploring them, and being on the ocean. Later in

life, he would take us on the BC Ferries, with binoculars in hand, smile on his face, and show us

around, and point at things, and explain about them.

That stubbornness, and strength of mind is what kept him going during the difficult times of his

life. Growing up in Europe during WW2 he had strong opinions on some politics, hated

communism, and was never afraid to speak his mind, especially when it came to how people

were treated, and freedoms. Speaking his mind on these subjects certainly got him in trouble

at work…but clearly, he didn’t care. That stubbornness, is also what got him through a terrible

accident he had in his workplace when I was young.

A badly broken arm, a terrible head injury with a cracked skull, loss of sight in one eye…this

stubborn man healed, not only went to therapy, but continued to work on strength and

mobility on his own time also. He pushed past the pain, got mobile, and went back to work.

My sister Rita was born in Manitoba, and moved across the country with Mum and Dad, while I

was born in BC. By the time I came along, they had a small family home in Burnaby. That home

is still there. I recall all the work Dad did on that home and garden, to make it perfect for

our family. It started off as a white house with red trim. I remember Dad used to drive to

remote areas (there still were some back then), load up his car or van with large rocks to take

home. He then cemented them around the base of the house. This house also had his (and

our) first large garden.

Dad was also a hunter. Not sure, but I think this is what Dad’s did back then to help feed their

families? From the earliest time I can remember I recall Dad and his brother, Hans, going on

hunting trips, while we all stayed home and got treated to dinner at some sort of fancy

restaurant. We certainly never went hungry.

While Dad had a love for the Ocean, he also had a love for the mountains and forests. I think

that was his favorite place to be; out in the wilderness, the simple life, with good friends and

family.

During the various stages of his life, he always had his garden. By the time I had finished High

School and started college, Dad and Mum were looking for a property so my father could build

a family home. We found this in a great neighbourhood, which left many lasting memories.

The property right next to ours was bought by an Italian couple and they were also building a

house at the same time. Mum and Dad, and Sam and Angelina became fast friends. Many a

time you could see Dad and Sam sitting in Sam’s outdoor shed drinking homemade wine. And

Angelina would bring over her homemade authentic pizza, or homemade ricotta cheese. Yum,

so good. I was looking at photos of the backyard that Dad created. In the pix, you can hardly

tell where the property line was between our 2 homes. Old fashioned ethics, and great

personalities grew to a wonderful trusting friendship.

In the old neighbourhood, and in the new one, Dad was well known to be helpful to all the

neighbours. They would call on him to help with a little project, when they needed something

fixed or built. He never asked for anything in return; that wouldn’t have been right. Dad loved

all the neighbours, and could be seen any day laughing and joking with them, and anyone else

that happened to walk by.

We couldn’t talk about Dad without talking about his last garden. It was his masterpiece! The

veg patch was huge! It also had enough fruit trees to almost call it an orchard. 2-3 cherry, at

least 4 apple, plums, kiwis, fig trees, pears. It was spectacular. He also grew Rhododendrons,

had an amazing orange azalea, roses and peonies.

I remember the Peonies from the old house, and as a child I hated having to help in the garden

(spiders, yikes), but I loved the Peonies..and I remember saying to my dad that I wanted them

to be my flowers. In all my garden’s, I’ve always grown Peonies, and they always make me

think of home and family.

Dad was also known to grow a fabulous climbing Rose. It was called Dortmund, and it was a

simple open red flower with only a few petals, amazing dark green foliage, slight to no scent,

but OH, the blooms!! Incredible, and he made so many plant-babies, they were all over the

coast. I hope some are still going. After looking long and hard, I now I am the proud owner of

2 Dortmund Roses; This year they will be 1, and should have the first fabulous bloom. Every

time I look at them, I think of my family.

Dad raised us to be kind, treat others with respect, and work hard. He was also there for us,

when things were tough. Taking care of me after my bad accident as a teenager. Taking care of

my sister when she was being bullied as a teenager, and taking her into the basement to teach

her how to box…Yes, he fully expected Rita to punch the other girl in the face, had she needed

to. I don’t think it came to that, lol.

Later in life, Dads injuries pained him a great deal, but he never let it slow him down too much.

Around 80 or so, he had some mini strokes that set him back, and were likely one of the main

causes of his dementia. Dad and Mum managed on their own, in the house that Dad built for

many years. Remember that stubbornness I mentioned? Yup, that kept them in the house long

after they should have been in care. I’m glad they lasted there so long. While Mum took care

of Dad, Dad was still always watching out for Mum. I recall the care worker having a

conversation with them once about moving to a care facility…and Dad looked the person right

in the eye, and said: If you come after me, I am taking my wife, and we are leaving for Austria.

He wasn’t going to let anyone mess with his family.

In both the home neighbourhood and finally in the care home, Mum and Dad were known as

that “cute” old couple. They were clearly dedicated to each other. With Mum being gone now

for 2.5 years, I am happy that they are now together again, and also that my Father’s pain is

now over.

He leaves behind his daughters Kim and Rita Mikusch, his brother and sister in law Hans &

Evelyne Mikusch, his sister Maria Piko, and many other relatives, including, cousins, nieces, and

nephews.

To close, I sit here struggling with my emotions. Dad had a long good life, I know he had pain in

the later years of his life, and that is over. I know the loss of my mother was significant.

Regardless, I sit here wondering how does life go on without my Dad?