Ludmila

She leaves behind a legacy. A legacy of five. Her husband, Karel, son, Pete, daughter, Dagmar, and two grandchildren, Briana and Brandon. She leaves behind many loved ones near and far. As far as Prague, where her first day began. She took her first breath on March 16, 1937, as Ludmila Sonja Hajek. She lived a life that many of us wouldn’t trade for, but she had fun too. She told stories of running home from school, playing with the neighborhood dogs, singing songs with her cousins and friends, and exploring.

She met Karel in Slovakia in 1961, and since then, “they just couldn’t forget about each other,” says Karel. Was it her gorgeous glow, her twinkling brown eyes, her flirtatious smile, or simply her charm? Regardless of what Karel initially loved, they were married in April of 1964 and quickly pregnant with Pete in 1965. A year later came Dagmar (1966), and they were a family of four. Not quite the Von Trapp family singers, but they were about to embark on an adventure of their own. Ludmila had friends who had made the trip to Canada to set forth for a new life and she insisted that her and Karel do the same – leaving family, Czech roots, and the Communist invasion.

In September 1968, they packed their apartment in the Prague town square, gathered their belongings, and waited until next morning to start what they were referring to as their “vacation to Bulgaria.” In Prague, with the kids packed up, they headed to the car. Gone. Someone had stollen it. So, they waited a week until they could get a rental car and try again. Success. Before going to Toronto, they would first head to Austria to work every day for almost two months to prepare for their next phase of the trip. Karel had met people from congress in Prague who also helped with the move.

In November, Lu, Karel, and their two kids, ages three and two years old, made it to Toronto. Karel and Lu lived among some family and friends who ventured a similar escape route and raised the kids together. As the saying goes, “it takes a village.” In the summer of 1974 and after six years in Toronto, Karel working as a geophysicist and Lu working in a lab as a research assistant, Karel was asked to relocate to Denver, CO. Hesitant at first to leave their life in Toronto, Lu agreed and that’s when Lu built their forever home.

They moved into a two-story house in Cherry Creek, CO, the first owners, with many renovations and dreams in mind. Originally a mustard yellow and brown exterior, they’d soon paint it blue and white. While Karel traveled for work, Lu and the kids built a basement, shed house, deck, backyard, and gardens. Fruit trees and bushes, pine trees, roses, and various flowers galore, would grow for nearly 50 years.

She built a home. Filled with nostalgic art from Europe, paintings from French artists, photos of Prague, old clocks, and exposed wood to match it all. The kitchen always smelled of Rizek, goulash, shrimp sandwiches, the best potato salad you have ever had, chocolate cake, German cheese and meats, black coffee, and cigarettes. She built a home for Pete and Dagmar to grow up in, make neighborhood friends, walk to school, and create memories. She built a home for Karel to come home to after long work trips, and where they could all come back to after family vacations. Karel and Lu took the kids to Lake Powell every year where they camped on the rocks, swam across the lake, explored new heights, and Lu tanned for hours on end. They flew to Hawaii too.

Lu also built a home for herself. She hosted many parties, and was never short of gin, vodka, or Canadian whiskey. She played the accordion, sang, and danced. Dagmar remembers her vividly sitting in the dining room chair often, with her legs spread, hands on her knees, and singing deep loud songs from Prague, while others listened or joined in. She was the life of the party. Small but strong.

Then came her beloved grandkids, Briana (1995) and Brandon (1998). She always reminisced on seeing Briana in the hospital for the first time and looking at her “big brown eyes,” and mimicked Briana saying, “I love you, Gammy,” and her saying it back. And Briana did — it was love at first site. Little did they know, they’d be so alike. Dagmar was studying her masters at the University of New Mexico, and so Lu and Karel, now “Gammy and Kaija,” took turns driving to and from Albuquerque to watch Briana for her working parents. Brandon soon joined the family, and what a joy. Born a blonde hair, blue-eyed boy. Little did the family know he’d make everyone laugh with his innocent humor. Briana and Brandon reminisce on their time with Gammy and note it always included snacks, singing nursery rhymes, playing outside, gaming on Gammy’s cool Nintendo, and laughing.

From Albuquerque, Colorado Springs, and finally Denver where Dagmar and the kids landed — 15 minutes from where Dagmar grew up — Gammy and Kaija were always around. Lu became an honorary grandma to the kids in Briana and Brandon’s cul-de-sac. She’d prepare spaghetti after the kids spent long summer days playing outside – because that’s what she thought American kids ate – spaghetti and meatballs every day. She gave out hugs like candy. She’d walk all the kids to the park as a bodyguard, though most the kids were already towering over her. And she’d welcome them all with a smile.

And though she had a dark side too, she left a light behind. What a gorgeous woman. Colorful sweaters on top of silk white collared shirts. Always elevated with a heel. Hair-sprayed hair. Hair so blonde you’d think it was hers. Gold jewelry. Black purse, with a pack and lighter always hanging out. Her back-to-the-future car. An icon. A treasure. Always moving, small steps, quick feet. Cooking, cleaning, shopping, gardening. The greenest thumb. Brown eyes, always twinkling. And even in her last week of life, she was still smiling through the pain, laughing out loud, and telling us all to “go have fun.”

Ludmila Valasek took her last breath on a snowy afternoon on Thursday, November 17, 2022. She was surrounded by those she loved most, those she dedicated her life to building a home. And though we all wish we could have one more hug and kiss and one more hot plate of goulash, we know she’ll always be with us. In the roses, among the raspberry bushes, in the taste of a hard alcoholic drink, and in every, “I love you.”