I’m about to meet a cousin I didn’t know I had. My cousin from Ukraine is coming to Australia. She has not been here before, and none of us have met her. In fact, until a few months ago, we didn’t know that she existed. We thought my Uncle Oleksander—her father—had died. We thought he had lost his life as a young man, executed or imprisoned by the Soviet regime. We never dreamt that he had somehow escaped this fate, and gone on to live a life much like other people. We never imagined that he had had the chance…
Subscribe to get access to all online articles
Already a member?
Sign in to read this article