Mr. Fedorowicz was born in Ukraine, but he didn't spend his childhood there. He didn't have much of a childhood at all. He was a child of war.
Ukraine has a complicated WWII history. Russia invaded, which threw some Ukrainian soldiers on the side of Germany. Others fought both the Red Army and the Nazis. For most, it wasn't about politics, it was about survival.
So it was for Mr. Fedorowicz. As a little boy, he was forced to work in labor camps. He was no child; he was a mule. But he survived.
Eventually he found his way to Rhode Island, then here to Seattle. And today, into my car.
I gave him a ride to his doctor's appointment, and in those few minutes, this lovely 80-something year-old man was kind enough to share some of his life with me. As he got out, he struggled a bit to properly plant his cane on the sidewalk.
He didn't have any issues with his balance. He was just preoccupied, explaining to me how thankful he was for a stranger to help him get to the doctor.
I was glad he didn't see me get a little teary-eyed. Instead, he kept talking. "I'll tell you a secret," he said, as I leaned in. "Getting old sucks!"
We shared a laugh as he shuffled toward his doctor's office. And I was reminded again that frailty often masks the most incredible strength.