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Memories of my Father

My Father

By Lorne VanderwoudePublished 3 years ago 10 min read
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My Father as a young man.

As I sit here in front of my computer screen, my heart is breaking, and I feel a sense of loss of a man I looked up to and respected for all of my life. My mind began to raceway back as far as I could remember. The first memories which came to my mind were when I just about lost my life at four years old.

In the summer of 1972, our family visited some friends of my parents who lived in Calgary, Alberta. On a hot summer afternoon, my father fished me out of the swimming pool due to my drowning at the bottom of their pool. It was from that day on when I developed a fear of the water.

I also remember when I went with my father to his office, where he did his office work whenever he was not in his Police truck. I did find it hard to be away from my Father's presence. I always kept him in sight at all times. There was this one time while I was typing on his old manual typewriter when I discovered that he was gone. I raced out of his office and started to look for him frantically. When I found him, he was using the photocopier to make some copies. A small room was just off the staff room where the staff usually had their coffee breaks in was where he was making those photocopies in.

I do remember the first time I had to be away from my parents. It was when I was five years old. I was dropped off at Kindergarten, which was a really terrifying experience for me personally. This experience helped me be independent of my family.

I was a child when I developed a stutter, which really put a damper on my ability to communicate with other people. My father did everything he could to help me grow out of this disability that I had developed as a child. Amazingly, I did develop as a child since I spent most of my time in my bedroom with my imaginary friends. To this very day, I still have my teddy bear, Little Ted. He still is my best friend who lives in my bedroom, along with my wife.

The adventures I went on with my father were many experiences which are too many for me to recall. However, a few do come to mind as I meditate on my memories of my father.

I do recall the experiences of when I helped my father look after his bees. To me, I'm not too fond of bees. I still do hate these little insects to this very day. Maybe it was when one of those little insects rolled up into my hair and stung me right in my head.

I also went with my father as he was tearing down an old house. I helped my father load the trailer up with lumber, including the staircase that he later placed in our house like a staircase to the new second story, which he built to improve our home. During one of those trips, I had warned him that he could get the truck and the trailer stuck in this one mud hole in front of us on the trail we would get back to the main road.

I remember the times when dad and I spent time riding in his police truck. This usually happened on a Saturday night when I was off from school. My heart raced as I saw the red and blue lights rotate as he would pull behind vehicle after vehicle. I observed that every time he would place his police cap on before, he would confidently stroll over to each vehicle. He often writes up a ticket, then strolls back over to present each driver with their certificate of accomplishment.

There were times when he used our private car as an unmarked police car. We were on the way home one afternoon when he slammed on the brakes stopping in the middle of the intersection. There right in front of our noses, a few blocks away, was an old car in the middle of a brake stand. To make a long story shorter, father pulled the old car over, and in a few minutes, we pulled up to our house seeing, the old car waiting behind the police truck. Father jumped out of the car, grabbed his ticket book from the truck and soon was handed the driver a nice ticket rewarding him for his un-safe unlawful act, which he did in that intersection.

Over the past 52 years, I had that many birthdays that many of them would be very special. Some of those birthdays were more memorable than others. In 1992, my father brought this twin bed to me for a birthday gift, purchased by my brother. My father expressed that my brother Peter would not spend $100.00 on my birthday gift, so I owed him $50.00. I still do have that bed in our spare room. It is in the same shape as it was when I first received it. We still use that bed for our guests.

The trips we as a family made to the Netherlands were essential to my life. However, I do remember the trip which we took in 1975 the best. I was seven years old when our family left Canada on an orange CP Air jet heading towards the Netherlands. Papa passed away the year before. Beppe could not handle us kids living in her house. The family rented a house for our family in Holwerd. I remember this house like I was there in it yesterday. The house was set up like the average house in the village where my father grew up in. He grew up on a farm just on the outskirts of the village. His brother lived at a government-owned Windmill known as "The Hope" His brother had a dairy farm operation in which he milked a lot of cows in the field. I spent a lot of time with my father riding on the back of his bike as we toured all over the Netherlands. The neat little bike roads were so incredible. I remember thinking that every time I saw a hill, the sea was right behind that hill.

On Sunday, I remember seeing Beppe ride her bike with a dress on her way to church. Now, that is a sight which is very hard for anyone to forget. She did ride that bike with such grace and ease. I also remember the church service, which was in a language, which I could not understand. If it were not for the passing of the peppermint candies, I would not have realized the sermon had just begun.

The cowboy and Indians games seemed to be the most fun with these cousins, who I rather did not know too well. At our Aunt's place, the house behind where Beppe lived, was a pen full of goats. Our Uncle did not allow us, kids, to feed the goats. He was rather a huge grouch. My father did not have a lot of love for this guy. I am not sure if there were too many people who really did like this guy. He may not have had too many friends.

Then there was one afternoon when I accidentally rode this oversized bike right into the prickly plants. I have never itched that much before this event and have never itched like that after that event. I could feel that itchiness still to this day without having that plant rub against my skin. I sure hope that this will never happen to me ever again.

Then, the young People's campouts that my parents were asked to come along as chaperones. There were a few more parents who attended along with my parents on that annual campout. This was a huge event in my life which I will never forget as long as I am here on this earth. I remember the hot chocolate which burnt my tongue. I remember my mother telling me not to complain. I was told that I was warned to be careful while drinking this hot liquid.

The breakfast, which was pancakes, bacon and eggs, really shocked me. We were never fed anything other than toast, cereal and grapefruit. This was the first time in my life where I was offered such foods for breakfast. Most of the people around me thought that I was rather strange because they had those foods all the time for breakfast meals. I remember the year when my parents brought my father's sister and her son's girlfriend along on this campout experience. They were made to tell our friends that this girl was pledged to be married to our aunt's son. Mother never wanted to have our friends know that the son was shacked up with some girl. Mother did not want the Vanderwoude name to be ruined.

This one morning, before we all got up, our aunt was topless cleaning herself under a tree just outside of our trailer. My mother was so embarrassed and angry that my father's sister was ruining our family name in front of our friends. Father was calm and collected reassured her that this was not in her control and that people will understand that this was a cultural difference. Father did have a way of calming mother down, which was very good for all of us around this situation.

In 1992, I met this girl at McDonald's, where I was working at the time. She is my wife at this present time. I started to share with my parents all about this special girl who I had begun to date. Every time my parents would drop by, they always came just after she had left the apartment. After this had happened around ten times, my parents wanted to make sure that they could get the chance to meet this young lady. Well, they set up a meeting at our local Smitty's Restaurant so that they could get a chance to meet this young lady. My mother told this young lady that she could call them Mom and Dad. We were only dating at the time, which was rather uncomfortable.

In that following August, we announced our engagement for the following year. This was in August of 1993. My father built us for our wedding present, a bookshelf, an entertainment unit, and fixed up a cupboard we had bought from one of our box stores. My father really enjoyed building things out of wood.

On the afternoon of our wedding day, my father felt it necessary to give me some marriage advice regarding our honeymoon's actions on our honeymoon. After he explained that the woman was like an oven that needed time to warm up, he asked me if I had any questions for him. I told him that I would figure it out step by step when I got to these situations.

The events on our journey with my parents was really a positive journey. January of 2004 changed our lives for good. I was driving a taxi when Joy, my elder sister informed me that our mother was dying. The moments which we spent with our mother still are harrowing for me to recall. I am always amazed at how emotionally strong my father was. I still admire his strong leadership skills whenever our family dealt with a tough situation. He was always confident and sure in the very decision he made. I do believe this what made him an excellent police officer for the 32 years which he served. I always desired to be as strong and confident as he was in his life.

Our mother passed away on January 22, 2004, which left my father very lonely since those two were together for the past 43 years. Our father needed to have someone to share his life with, so; he got remarried twice over the past fifteen years. I have always supported him on his journey. I was not in a place to dictate to him how he was to live the rest of his time on this earth.

My last memory of my father was when we spent together outside Humpty's restaurant while he was sitting in his van. I remember his last loving touch and loving words as he gave me his final words of wisdom for me to follow for the rest of my life. The words are too personal for me to repeat, yet I must say that they really touched my heart in a wonderful way. I do have many memories of my father; however, these are the ones that I chose to share with the world, while others are ones that I will keep to myself and my family.

grief
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About the Creator

Lorne Vanderwoude

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