Dad’s arrival to Canada at age 20
“It’s finished, Dad.”
The words came as I leaned over the still warm body of my Dad at Chilliwack BC Hospital. He had taken his last breath in room 470 only moments ago. Privately, as I imagine he would have wanted.
The nurse had called at 6AM to tell us he was gone. Vicki and I were already awake at brother Mike’s house, only a few miles from the hospital. We had returned there to sleep after spending the two previous days at Dad’s bedside. He was non-responsive during this time, but we talked to him as if he could hear and played the Dutch hymns he loved.
We left for the hospital immediately, coffee still hot, to sit with him until it was time for the funeral home to come. There he lay: peaceful, sound of breath noticeably absent, one day short of his 89th birthday.
“It’s finished, Dad. You don’t have to do it anymore.”
I felt relief for him because his life was complete. Complete like the many building projects he as a master carpenter had finished. I thought of all the churches, Christian schools and houses he had built in northern BC after immigrating to Canada from The Netherlands. He had done it start to finish, over and over: foundation work, framing, electrical, mechanical, plumbing, insulation drywall, exterior and interior finishes.
The relief I felt for him was visceral.
He didn’t have to be dutiful or responsible for the things he cared about anymore. He was released from service, honorably discharged. He had loved well: first, my Mom for 32 years until she died of cancer in 1988, and then Maria for 30 years after her first husband died. When he married Maria, his family nearly doubled in size. Together they shared 8 adult children (plus spouses), 26 grandchildren and 27 great-grandchildren. Dad tried hard to balance the needs and expectations of this new and larger family. With so many birthdays to remember and so many holidays to celebrate, it wasn’t always easy. He did as he saw fit though, and gave his own shape to being a responsible husband, father and grandfather. I trust he did the best he could, and honor him for that.
Now he was finished.
I know his early childhood experiences with WWII were traumatic and haunted him throughout his adult life. I remember him sobbing deeply at an Anne Frank exhibit in Sioux Center IA where Vicki and I were living with our young family at the time. We had to leave the exhibit early because he couldn’t tolerate the graphic war pictures. In his final years, he became suspicious of others, including me. I believe this too, had to do with the difficult circumstances he endured as a child. This awareness softens things for me, helps me put my relationship with Dad into perspective.
Several days after Dad died, I realized the relief I felt in room 470 was also for myself.
I too, had been released from a responsibility I had taken seriously for many years: the responsibility to be a good son. My Mom died when I was 32, but the responsibility I felt continued to Dad’s last breath. I didn’t have to do it anymore either.
Like my Dad, I’m dutiful. I work hard to take appropriate personal responsibility for my life, to get it right. I wanted to respect and honor my parents. Not in order to be “OK” myself, but for their their sakes, because it was the right thing to do. This required careful tending over many years from thousands of miles away.
I left BC in my red Volkswagen at age 17 to attend Dordt College Sioux Center IA. I met Vicki there and never really came back. Vicki and I eventually married and started our own family in Wisconsin and then Iowa. I know it broke my Mom’s heart that I didn’t return home. She often sent newspaper clippings of BC job openings and was not shy about her heart’s desire for me to live closer. Even though I felt secure in my own choices and was happy with the life and family Vicki and I created in the states, I was acutely aware that from my Mom’s perspective, I didn’t get it right. Dad, on the other hand, let me go without overt disapproval. He seemed to know I was making choices for my own life the way I saw fit, just like he did.
Geographic distance took its toll. Vicki and I weren’t able to participate in the daily lives of my parents or help them in practical ways like my siblings Judy, Mike and David were able to do. They lived closer and were in a much better position to celebrate birthdays, holidays and special events with my parents or to simply drop by. In the end, they were able to assist Dad with doctor appointments, health concerns and other practical matters in ways we couldn’t. For this, I am ever so grateful.
In spite of the distance, Vicki and I wanted my parents to know they were an important part of our lives. We wanted them to feel included and worked hard over the past 43 years to make this happen.
Every Sunday afternoon, regardless of how busy our own lives were, one of us sat down at the kitchen table to write a letter filled with details of our work and family life. We mailed pictures often: pictures of our kids growing up and more recently, pictures of our adult children and the families they are now raising. When digital photos became available, we continued to mail real photos because Dad liked to hold them in his hands. He created several albums out of all the pictures we sent over the years.
We made annual trips to BC which allowed us to also see my siblings and their families on a regular basis. The primary reason for visiting though, was to honor my parents. We made these trips willingly, but it wasn’t always easy. Air flights to BC were expensive, especially when our kids still lived at home. Road trips to BC required 70-plus hours of driving just to get there and back. When our budget was tight or vacation time limited, this was a big price to pay. Sometimes the responsibility to be a good son felt heavy. I always felt blessed though, and to this day, have no regrets.
As Dad got older, he began to tell the same stories over and over. Conversations became one-sided. Sometimes I longed for him to be more curious about my life and to see me as a fellow adult, not as the little boy he used to know and love. I grieved this longing well before he died and realized my responsibility was to love him exactly as he was.
I think I learned this from Dad because he too, felt responsibility to be a good son. He sponsored his parents to come to BC from The Netherlands when they were in their late 50’s and cared for them in many practical ways until they died. I know this was a heavy responsibility for him and I hope it blessed him too.
Dad’s parents, my Opa and Oma, shortly before they immigrated to BC
Dad died on March 10 2020, the day before his 89th birthday. On March 11, Vicki and I ran 8.8K in Chilliwack with my brother Mike and his wife, Patti, to celebrate 88 years of a life well lived.
Here’s to you, Dad! It’s finished! Rest In Peace.
L. and V.
Well done Lloyd.
Our thoughts and prayers are always with you, but especially during this time of loss.
God bless!
Thank you, Steve!
What a touching and moving story, Lloyd. I’m reminded how parallel your journey has been to mine, loosing our dear mothers when we were still very young men, praying how to best care for our fathers when geographically apart, and then also with similar end-of-life stories. You’ve told your story in such a honoring and special way, and I feel privileged to have this glimpse. Blessings on you and your family and these memories.
Thank you so much for your kind comments. Writing this blog post has been a wonderful way for Vicki and I to reflect on our journey and to honor our time with Dad.
Thank you Craig. It was an honor to meet and know your parents. I especially enjoyed your Dad. He was always curious,inquisitive and so supportive. Someday I can tell you about our conversation at Schuelers Book Store in GR.
Thanks for sharing your story, Lloyd. So touching and real! There are tears on my cheeks. I particularly loved the image of “release.” What a wonderful way to imagine death. A live well lived; a life complete. May the Risen One be your comfort and joy in your days and more of mourning. Give our love to Vicki.
Thank you Tony and Dee for your kind comments. I too love the image of “release”. May we all be so blessed to be so “released” at the end of our life have fulfilled our calling and purpose in life.
This is beautiful, Lloyd. The love and honor are abundantly clear.
Thank you, Dennis. Aware that you too, experienced the death of your Dad this year. Continued strength and comfort to you!
What a wonderful tribute, and touching reflections, Lloyd. Thanks for sharing. God’s peace to you all.
Thanks Jane…and Craig too!
Beautiful tribute to a life well lived & honored by his family. Thoughts & prayers.
Thanks Carrie.Both Vicki and I cherish your friendship and support.
A beautiful testimony Lloyd, our heart felt sympathy to you folks.
Thank you, Lawrence.
Beautifully written Lloyd. Your love an honor for your dad was always shown in so many different ways. How blessed you were to have a dad who loved his maker above all and loved his family and others also. Thankful we got to know both your mom and dad. Grateful you have so many precious memories!
Thanks Mom. Even though there was a great geographic distance between you and my parents, you got along so well. Each of you supported us as parents and loved our children so much. Vicki and I are so grateful for the support. What an amazing gift!
The smile lives on forever!
Thanks Isaiah and Salome!
Dear Lloyd & Vicki, Thank you for sharing your story of your feelings & tribute for your Dad. How similar it was when my Mom was far away in Canada and needed care. Also I did not realize that your Dad passed exactly one year from Cal’s passing (March 10, 2019).
Glory to God in the highest! They are at peace and my you also have comfort in the shared memories. Love & prayers, Pauline
We all are children of immigrants and in that way our stories are similar. Thank you for your comments Pauline!
Thank you for sharing Uncle Lloyd. It’s nice to see another perspective of opas life. Really enjoyed reading this.
Thanks Denise for your comments. Opa was a very special person who lead an extra ordinary life. Both Vicki and I were so glad to spend some time with you and Jacey and Riley. Share our greetings with Brad too!
Really a lovely piece, Lloyd, thanks for sharing. It is moving and encouraging to see the unfolding of your and Vicky’s lives over the decades, after we parted post-Dordt. Wish you and Vicky much peace, fond memories, and joy in remembering your Dad (and Mom).
Best wishes,
John and Shirley
We have both experienced and mourned the loss of parents in the past years. A passing of the greatest generation….I guess it’s now up to us to carry on!
Lovely tribute to your dad including the complex nature of your relationship..God bless.
Thanks Carol for your kind comments. It will be good to see you and Mike soon.
Dear Lloyd and Vicky, we have talked often in the past 2 weeks, knowing your Dad died and you as a family and we as friends and family have not been able to share in a service to remember him and celebrate. So your eulogy of your Dad was such a heartfelt and honouring piece.
The Usk chapel along Highway 16 is one of the many projects your Dad started and finished, a long standing memorial to a historic building and at the same time now a tribute to your Dad’s skills. His passing as been a true release for him as he is now enjoying eternity, but also for you as children who have kept watch and lived along with him over the years and across the miles that separated you. Blessings, Martin
Thank you Mart and Sue for your kind comments. I know you and Dad had a special relationship due to the unique bonding experience with the Use Pioneer Chapel.
Thank you, Lloyd, for sharing this lovely tribute of your dad with us; your self-disclosure of mixed emotions etc. is also a gift to us who have had similar experiences due to being immigrants and living far away from our family of origin. The picture of Len waving good bye has special meaning for me, his younger brother. I was there at Schiphol airport with my parents and a few siblings to say farewell to our brave brother in March, 1951. At the time I felt very sad for nobody knew when we might see him again. The wave of his arm is such a warm gesture of farewell but the smile on his face tells me he saw something good coming out of his leaving, and it did when two years later we were able to join him in Prince Rupert, BC. Len decided to let the KLM fly him to Canada instead of bouncing around in an immigrant ship on the Atlantic!
Thank you Uncle Nick. I always wondered about the context of that picture. Thank you for bringing us back to that moment in time. Who knew then that in two years your entire family would be in Prince Rupert!