Close Encounters

My parents immigrated from Ukraine as young children and made their way to the US where they eventually met and married and had me and my sister. As first generation Ukrainian Americans, our parents kept to many of the Ukrainian customs and traditions. We went to Ukrainian school, a Ukrainian church, Ukrainian dance group, Ukrainian bandura (a musical instrument), and many more Ukrainian functions. During one of those Ukrainian functions we had the opportunity to travel to Canada to perform at a concert with fellow Ukrainians from all around the US and Canada. At that concert was the man I would marry 16 years later, but never had the chance to meet him.

Several years later a friend, my sister and I traveled to Canada for the Labor Day weekend. It was another Ukrainian gathering for one of the youth groups. I had the opportunity to meet many people that weekend, all of who were friends with my future husband but, still, no meeting for the two of us – but he was there.

A year or so later I traveled to New York for yet another Ukrainian event and although my future husband was at this event as well, we did not meet. There were several more events we both attended where our paths crossed but we never met. At one event we sat so close to one another that we could share stories of what was happening – but we did not meet.

Finally, 13 years after our paths first crossed we finally met. It was at a Ukrainian function in Cleveland, Ohio. The man that I would fall head of heals in love with happened to join his friends from Michigan (where he lived) and attend a New Years party in Cleveland. I traveled with two of my friend from Chicago (where I lived) to attend the same party. The rest, as they say, is history.

We often joke that had we met earlier we would have hated one another. I cannot explain why we never met. So many of my Chicago friends all new my future husband, and all the people I met during my travels to Canada and New York were pretty much all friends of his. The best part of the story for me is, from that first concert in Canada that I performed when I was 11-12 years old was a photograph. A panoramic almost of the more than 100 people that performed on that stage. That photo hung on the wall of my future husband’s bedroom with me on it for 13 years and he never knew his future bride was right there with him all along!

Submitted by Tanya