#14 – HONORING HANSHI JHONNY BERNASCHEWICE – 52 WEEKS OF LEGACY
Writing about Hanshi Jhonny Bernaschewice is not easy. He was your teacher, and he was my teacher too — but above all, he was my husband and the father of our two children. Our life was always a beautiful blend of family and traditional martial arts, so I didn’t have to think twice about inviting you to join me on a journey into his past. This is where his story as a teacher shines most brightly.
Many of you have known him for decades — some of you grew up with him by your side. You remember his boyish smile, his warm heart, and his unwavering strictness in keiko. But he was so much more than that.
He was my husband.
He was the father of Igor, An, Joren, and Hannah.
He was the son of Maria and Stefan, and the brother to his siblings.
His heart was big enough to hold all of these roles, even though at times it might have seemed that only one thing mattered most — his path. But if you walked alongside him for a while, you would see that everything was equally important to him.
He was always studying, always curious. Sometimes it was languages that drew his attention (he was forever frustrated that, even after many years, Japanese remained a mystery to him). At other times, it was science and technology. He was a restless soul — he couldn’t sit still for even a moment without doing something. His great passion was working with metal and wood. He built CNC machines from scratch, researched programming for them, and loved nothing more than getting his hands dirty welding or constructing some odd contraption that would turn out to be surprisingly useful. I remember An’s mom once telling a story about him climbing inside a boiler just to see how it worked. His mind was always hungry for knowledge.
Hanshi Jhonny was a self-made man. He could fix anything — and I truly mean anything. Whether it was a problem at the dojo or at home, he worked at it until it was solved… at least until the next challenge came along. Everything had to be practical; he didn’t care for “nice and shiny.” Though highly respected in the martial arts world, he had no interest in bling or status. He walked his own path. Obstacles never stopped him — he would go over them, under them, around them, or through them. And once he set his sights on a goal, nothing could deter him. “Seven times down, eight times up” wasn’t just a saying for him; it was how he lived.
For our children, Joren and Hannah, he was the most wonderful father they could have wished for. Yes, he was strict and had his rules, but his love for them was pure and steady. Becoming a father later in life meant he could spend more time with them than a younger man busy building a livelihood. He taught them to be proud of themselves and to reach for their goals — and they are doing exactly that now. They stand beside me as we slowly find our way forward.
Sometimes, it feels like running on a treadmill. But we do not give up. That determination is something Hanshi Jhonny instilled in us. And while I may not know how to lay bricks or construct a building, I am learning. I am learning to live our life — my life — guided by the principles he lived by.
It will be different, but it will still be ours.
We miss him every single moment of every day. The room feels empty without him, yet it is also filled with the loving memories of when he was still here with us. Though he is gone, we feel his soul with us. That will never change. He will be with us — always.
