Papa's health had been steadily deteriorating over the past year. He was having problems walking, complaining of pain in his hips, and becoming quite forgetful. Me, Doris and the kids last saw him in June 2007, at the end of our trip to Europe. Even at that time the first signs of his deteriorating health were showing, but nobody suspected anything serious - just normal old age.
In December 2007 mama contracted pneumonia and became too weak to climb the stairs by herself: she'd gotten stuck in the middle before, unable to descend or continue up. So the wonderful 'homecare' (thuiszorg in dutch) who were visiting my parents 4 times a day wasn't sufficient anymore: mama had to sleep downstairs, and be prevented from going up the stairs. My brother Gerben and sister Anne Marie took turns in spending the night for a few days, but that clearly wasn't a solution: they both have families and live on the other side of Holland. (Apart from the fact that Gerben sleeps so soundly that mama would be upstairs by the time he'd wake up...)
So Gerben and Anne Marie organised 24 hour private nursing care - luckily my parents are able to afford that. On Tue Jan 29 while the nurse was helping papa to walk to the toilet, mama went off and started climbing the stairs. So the nurse followed mama, but regrettably papa stumbled on the little step in the hallway and fell. He was hurting a fair bit, but could still walk, so the doctor wasn't called.
On Mondays and Wednesdays papa used to go to a daycare place, and that Wednesday he required a wheelchair to go to the taxi. Then the daycare place called Anne Marie because papa was in such pain. She called our GP who dropped by in the afternoon and ordered an ambulance for papa to take him to the hospital for X-rays.
The X-ray of his pelvis was horrible: the bone on the left-hand side was completely gone, only a few broken-off fragments were visible. A major tumour had eaten away most of the pelvis bone, and the fall had fractured the little bit that was left. No wonder papa was in such pain. They then took a routine chest X-ray, which showed black spots in his lungs. It was clear that papa's body was riddled with cancer, and nobody had known.
Because of the 24-hr care, after a week papa was allowed to come back home. He was heavily sedated and slept downstairs in the front louge room, mama was in the rear and the nurse would sleep somewhere in between, near the door. Nobody could say how severe papa's situation was, but Gerben and Anne Marie (and the nursing staff) had seen quite a rapid deterioration over the past few months, so just in case we decided to organise administering the last sacrament to papa (he was a devout Roman Catholic). This happened on Sunday February 10 at 4:30pm.
I was able to listen in to this via the telephone (it was 2:30am in Australia). The next morning I called home to see how papa was doing and to my surprise Gerben answered the phone - he normally would've been well and truly home by that time (11pm in Holland). But both Gerben and Anne Marie had stayed in Hengelo because papa had gone downhill so much that they were going to spend the night at his bedside.
We had a webcam set-up, so Doris, me and the kids could still see papa, and we talked to him. He was in no condition to answer, but he seemed to recognise our voices. I immediately organised flights, and was on the plane 4 hours later. I called Hengelo from Singapore but Anne Marie said papa was even worse now and was slipping in and out of a coma. She hoped I was going to be on time.
I landed at Schiphol (Amsterdam Airport) at 6:10am. I immediately turned on my mobile phone, but it took a while to connect to the dutch network. I had to wait for my luggage so I decided to freshen up. While washing my hands there was a customs officer next to me who generously offered the use of his mobile phone. But my parents' line was busy. This could mean the worst, or maybe they were calling a doctor. A few minutes later in the arrival hall my phone finally did work, and when I called again I got Yvonne, one of the nurses, who had to tell me that papa had died one hour before. It was quite a shock, and the customs officer must have seen it - he came over to tell me how sorry he was. How supportive even a stranger can be.
Gerben's partner Tanja was picking me up from Schiphol. It was really good to have her to talk with during the 2hr drive to Hengelo. Papa was lying in state at home, and he looked very different from how he used to be, so much so that my first reaction was "but that isn't papa at all". But as the funeral director put it - what gave him life, his spirit, is not there anymore.
Papa stayed at home until the funeral on Saturday, or actually, the church service on Friday night. This is quite unusual, but we did that so mama could say good-bye, and be taken to him whenever she asked where papa was. Her forgetfulness made this necessary, and it was heartbreaking seeing her go through the shock every time. Fortunately the impact became less and less as time passed, although even now (one month on) mama sometimes still needs reminding.
It's one of life's big events, having a parent pass over. Somebody who was a fixture in your life suddenly isn't there anymore. But the impact on me has been a lot less severe than I (and others) expected. There are a few good reasons for that I think. Firstly, I've lived away from Holland for about 20 years now. There must have been 25 airport good-byes in that time, each time very conscious of the fact that your loved ones may not be there when you come back. So in a way I've been saying good-bye for 20 years.
Secondly through doing the Landmark Forum in 2000 I learned the importance of being complete in your life. Being complete with your parents is possibly the most important aspect of that. So everytime I saw papa since, I made a point of thinking about things I still needed to say to him, and also of 'creating the space' that allowed him to say what he wanted to say. Because we didn't always get along, this didn't always happen, but most of the times it did. Now that papa isn't here anymore, I do feel complete. There wasn't anything important I needed to say, and although I would've liked to have had some real in-depth father-to-son conversations with papa, I accept the fact that that just wasn't possible with him. He knows that I love him, and I know he loves me.
And finally the 'life after death' aspect. Of course being raised a catholic you get taught there is a heaven and hell etc. Although I often had my doubts about the catholic teachings, some things will stick to some extent. But it was through learning Rei-ki back in 1998, and experiences since, that I feel there is something more and that we are spiritual beings having a human experience. In other words, we never really die, and our soul just lives on.
Tuesday February 12, 2008 was a beautiful day in Holland and when I was in papa's garden with Anne Marie I said 'Geez, papa has a good view today', and that's how I really feel: papa is not dead, he has just changed forms.
The things I find especially sad now that papa's gone, is how mama is left alone. She's luckily cared for really well at home, and is not physically alone, but her life's partner of 50 years is not there anymore. The other thing is how papa's grandchildren are too young to really remember him, and they'll never be able to say 'My granddad always used to tell me...'
Papa's eulogy is below in english and dutch.
