Agape is one of my favourite words in the world. It’s known as Αγάπη in Greek and is the main word for love in our beautiful language. Agape is also the universal word for unconditional love, a deep care and devotion to others in a way that transcends time and borders, people and places. It’s something deeper than romantic love, and a pillar of many religions worldwide, and for good reason. Unconditional love really makes the world turn for all the right reasons.
After having spent over 10 years at Greek School, and most of my life connected to the Greek community in some way or another, I have been deeply privileged to learn more about those who embodied Agape more than anyone else: the Greek yiayiades. Despite their heartbreaking experiences during the post-WW2 era in a country plagued by poverty and civil war, the Greek yiayiades rarely let themselves be hardened by war. They persevered through every setback and nonetheless miraculously emerged as the fierce matriarchs of their Greek family, their unbridled optimism and deep compassion for their loved ones being the glue which holds a family together.
The void which a Greek yiayia leaves when they pass away is inconceivable and inconsolable, and one which I am only just learning to adapt to after my yiayia Christina recently passed under truly heartbreaking circumstances. Seeing my fiercely independent yiayia be so lifeless in her last few weeks felt worlds apart from the yiayia I knew and loved from the very beginning, even as her health regressed over the past few years.
My yiayia too was one of those Greek grandmothers who had been victims of a devastating war and a country deprived of options to rebuild. Ravaged by poverty and growing up in a remote village near Kalamata, my yiayia was forced to work as a cleaner and babysitter from the ripe age of 9 after discontinuing school at 8. Her parents were largely absent from her life, themselves unsure how to comprehend and process the devastation which had unfolded. Years later, at 20 (the age which I am at right now), she left behind her friends, loved ones, community and everything she knew to follow two of her older brothers across the globe to start anew in Australia. Although Australia was often marketed to these impressionable migrants as a utopia that was abundant in prosperity and opportunity, stifling gender roles and harmful attitudes towards immigrants only became more prominent. Initially financially dependent on her brothers, she was forced to abandon a lifelong dream of completing a hairdressing apprenticeship, to instead undertake factory work, get married and have children. In itself, marriage and children came with many challenges, and was often an isolating experience for her, especially as a migrant in a foreign country.
Despite the gross injustice she faced, my yiayia never let life hold her down and she harnessed her intelligence to create a life she loved and was proud of. A creative type, my yiayia had many positive experiences working for Kodak, helping to develop photos. Her last job was for Monash Health, where she helped in the kitchen, made sandwiches, and consequently became quick to correct my tomato slicing technique! Wherever she went, my yiayia left her workplaces better than they were when she started, her infectious kindness leading to her forming many lifelong friendships and bonds with her co-workers.
More than anything, my yiayia lived and breathed through her children, grandchildren, family and friends. She made several visits to see my mum when she was living interstate for years and bravely got her driver’s license in her 50s to visit her grandchildren. She patiently waited outside of the operating theatre for hours to meet me when I was born and invested in thoughtful and long-lasting presents for everyone. She always made sure to make a large tray of food for everyone’s birthdays and insisted on cleaning up afterwards even when the party wasn’t at her house. More than anything, she was adamant that we all had to have Christmas together, which was also her nameday, at her house, eating festive food and dancing to Kalamatiana.
My yiayia was also a shoulder to lean on during the tough times, supporting everyone around her with grace and dignity. She gave up everything she knew to support pappou during his double-cancer diagnosis. Whenever I was feeling tired, she would prop me up on her bed and tuck me in with a neatly folded blanket, even during the latter stages of her dementia. If anything, that’s indicative that for yiayia, serving others was not something forced, it was an instinct.
I could write numerous books detailing all the ways that my yiayia embodied the true meaning of Agape, and I wish I could. But more than anything I wish I had more moments with her, more moments where she could have given Agape to us. Instead, it’s up to me, and the rest of my family, to channel our inner Christina, and carry the Agape within us, even when sometimes it feels hard.
May Christina’s legacy be a source of guidance for us all, and may we be her voice, the voice of reason. The voice of agape.
