From Bela s funeral mass.... It is hard for me to believe, I first encountered the Bencsik family when I was a young constable working for the Calgary Police and their son Les was working at Chinook Centre doing retail security. Was that almost forty years ago? I found out some time later that Les was lucky to be there at all. When he was a bit younger he worked briefly with Bela in construction. While working on Bankers Hall Les was a little inattentive and stumbled into an elevator shaft. It was Belas strong steady hand that pulled his son back from a certain plunge to the bottom of the shaft some floors below. Bela expressed to Les in rather colourful language that he should not do that again. Some years later I met Anna and then the rest of the family. It took me a while to sort out how many people there were in the Bencsik family. I was never confused though about Anna, or Annuska. Let me see though, the rest of the family... Bela, or is that Bill? And if Bill isnt Bela, then when do I get to meet him? I simplified things by calling him Boss, and he seemed to like that. He was always Boss. Rose, or Rosie, seemed a bit more straightforward. Definitely the same person, unless there was a Hungarian culinary wizard hidden away somewhere cooking up all that hulopchee chopchee. I see a couple of puzzled faces out there. Im the English son in law. My knowledge of Hungarian consists of about four words; Magyar, Budapest and the two I made up to describe all that terrific food created by Rose, oftentimes with Belas help. A quick story about Roses cooking, and Belas helping. A little over five years ago I found myself hospitalized for a while. Actually, I had a couple of heart valves replaced. Being in hospital was definitely not my favourite place, but if I was not a fan of being in the hospital, Bela REALLY did not like them. Certainly not as a patient and not even as a visitor. Members of the family can also attest to this. IF Bela was convinced or coerced into going to hospital, or even the doctors office, he generally stayed about long enough to hear the words more testing and that would be it, he would leave. As I was recovering in hospital Rose and Bela made some of that marvellous Hungarian chicken noodle soup, the exact name of which I will likely mangle if I call it hoshlovosh. Hulopchee chopchee covers it. Despite Belas intense aversion to hospitals he drove Rose across the city to the Foothills, parked and actually accompanied Rose to my bedside, being sure not to spill one drop of that wonderful soup. He was that kind of guy, tough, strong, yet with a kind heart and always there helping Rose. Sometimes whether she needed help or not. Now, back to Bela and his family. I have mentioned Anna, Rose and Bela, but they were just the beginning. There was Helen, I thought, until I met Julie. It took me a while to figure out that it was just one person. And then someone mentioned Frank and Helen, the uncle and aunt who really werent. They were, however, good and dear friends of Bela and his family their entire lives in Calgary. OK, wait a minute now, Bela pops back into the conversation, but this one is NEVER Bill... ah, I see, John, or Johnnie, who was named after Bela, his father, but never used that name himself. Got it. Last, and later, Jimmy. The younger son. At least that one was straightforward, and if there is some other alias, I dont think I want to know. No matter their names, Bela loved all of his children, Anna, the educator and artist Julie the home body, recently moved so far away with her own family. Just a few hours ago as Julies aircraft was on the runway in Ottawa waiting to begin her flight home to Calgary we talked about that. Well, we didnt actually talk, we messaged each other. Her mentioning having moved so far away made me think again of Bela, all those years ago. Not just moving to a different town but boarding a ship, crossing an ocean, and most of Canada, to arrive in Calgary and begin his new life. Les the LRT guy (well, not any more) and entrepreneur, John the free spirit, Jimmy, the youngest Bela loved them all. And their children, his grandchildren, he especially loved them. On Friday I read a story about Bela, written by one of his grandchildren. Mathiew mentioned in his recollections of Papa a couple of things that really resonated with me; Trips to the mall, where papa ...would always be doing something to make you laugh, whether that be dancing around or making funny faces at grandma I thought that it was absolutely hilarious.. Mathiew closed his story about Bela by saying; ...when I have kids and they ask me what it takes to be a man, you will be the first person I tell them about. True to his heritage Bela attended a number of the Hungarian debutante balls. He attended for Nathan. He attended for Melissa. He attended for Nick. He was looking forward to attending for others who somehow managed to miss all the weekend and evening practises, the dress selection... You know who you are, and your grandfather is still expecting you to dance. I think though, most of all he attended for and with his sweetheart, Rose. To dance. And he loved to dance. Bela was a kind and generous man. Always willing and eager to tackle any project, oftentimes not for himself. He built cabins. He built decks. He cut down trees. And for the more physically demanding tasks there was always that little spit on the hands, rub em together and then dont stop or even slow down until the job was done. He was tireless. He was tireless, until the last few years. Then, all those years working outdoors in all sorts of weather and conditions began to catch up to him. He began to slow down. He would let someone else carry the heavy end of the load. He was still willing however his body was not quite so able. But he was still boss, or Bela, or Bill. He loved to fish. Like any true fisherman it really didnt matter what he caught, if anything. It was the experience of being out there, at or on a lake, a river or even a pond. On a couple of occasions he even dropped a line in Arbour Lake in the northwest corner of the city. A few days ago on one of Roses daily visits to the hospital, Bela was still making those funny faces while at the same time he and Rose shared a dance. This was not a physical dance, that was beyond what Bela could do. It was a dance between two sweethearts; the exchanged looks, the Hungarian words that I didnt understand, but I could feel the emotion. At one point Bela was saying something in Hungarian and he reached out his open arms as if to embrace Rose who was seated at the foot of the bed, and he brought his arms back toward his chest, and laid them over his heart. A short time later Rose did interpret another part of their conversation relating to Bela wanting some of his favourite hard candies. As Rose did not have any with her we drove back to their home and while I waited in the car Rose went in, got a bag of the candies and we returned to the hospital with them. (So much for the diabetic diet) When we left again a short time later Rose was on her way toward the door of the room and I reached out to touch Belas leg, just to let him know we were leaving. He gave a small wave with his hand, made one of those faces and motioned toward his mouth as if to say you see what my sweetheart brought me? Now, Bela has completed his last project, hammered the last nail, and sawn the last board. Bela has danced his last dance with his sweetheart, Rose. And so, we are all here to celebrate Mass for Bela. Thank you for attending. Be at peace Boss.