On Tuesday, August 5th, we were able to say goodbye to Aunt Ynskje. Not in the familiar church on the Boterdiep – as it is no longer in use – but in De Verbinding. Cousin Jacob spoke the following impressive words about his mother, our aunt.
Dear friends,
It truly warms our hearts that you are here in this church to remember our mother and grandmother together with us. We thank you for that. We would also like to extend a special welcome to our cousin from America, Wim Schoonveld, son of our uncle Jo and aunt Fokje.
We are grateful and blessed to have had mom as our mother for so many years. I used similar words after dad passed away. Their lives were intertwined for seventy years in such a way that they hardly left each other’s side, journeying together, raising us together, and caring for people and the world together. Fortunately, life is not measured in time; it is measured in moments, events, memories, and experiences. There are many of those for each of us, and I would like to share a bit of mama’s life story with you, so you can feel connected. Since mama and we have come to terms with her passing, my tone will not be heavy, despite the sadness that exists.
Mom speaks of a ‘blessed life’. But after Dad’s strength waned and he passed away in 2019, her joy and vitality diminished, and age began to weigh heavily on her. She became less joyful and life started to feel burdensome, very burdensome. Before our parents moved to De Brink, they lived for many years with Christa and Ezra, where they were lovingly taken care of. As siblings, we are very grateful to them for that. During that time, Dad began to change, and Mom suddenly had to become what Dad had always been for her: a supportive foundation. They had to move again because of Dad’s illness, Mom lost Dad shortly after, and due to that awful Corona, she didn’t see any of us for three months. She had to give up more and more: no more cycling, no more reading, no more knitting, no more walking, and eventually had to relinquish everything to others. She also mourned for the many in her circle who passed away. From the large Schoonveld family of fourteen children, only her brother Harke and her sister-in-law Anita, wife of her youngest brother Auke, remain. After a stroke a few weeks ago, her brain was still functioning well, but her body gave up. Until the very end, Mom was clear-minded, made comments about everything under the sun, was glad that all her children were with her, and said that she had lived a beautiful life and was happy. In all of this, we also want to thank De Brink for the excellent care, attention, and involvement. Mom lived there with pleasure and expressed her appreciation multiple times.
Mom was born on June 4, 1927, in Noordbroek as the fifth child of the eleven children of Willem Schoonveld and Lijsbeth Antonides. Grandpa Willem’s first wife was Albertje Stuurwold, who was only twenty-six when she passed away from tuberculosis. They had three children at that time, the oldest being four years old. So, altogether there were fourteen children. Mom grew up in Zuidbroek, but the family settled permanently in Zuidwolde in 1940-1941, in a lovely house at Noordwolderweg 24, just a stone’s throw away from here. Since the girls were not allowed to continue their education, Mom had to start working as soon as she turned fourteen and took on odd jobs. She found it dreadful, not only because of the long hours and the scandalously low pay but also due to homesickness and the attitude of the employers. For example, Mom was not allowed to eat with the family and would sit alone in the kitchen. Yet she had to sit through Bible readings and prayers at the table. And as Mom said, ‘They were still Christian too!’
Mom met Dad at her house because he was a friend of her brothers. They were part of the youth group in Zuidwolde, who gathered on the bridge. Dad often visited Mom’s house, especially since his mother had passed away, and he always said that Mom’s ‘moeke’ was his mother.
We, as children, never had a grandmother. Dad’s mother passed away in 1940 and mom’s mother in December 1945, from diphtheria, when she was 55 years old and mom was 18. Once again, grandpa Willem was left alone with young children. It is said that mom’s mother was a sort of angel. I think it was the biggest blow of her life, causing a lifelong quiet sorrow. Back then, there was hardly any talk about it, but in the family, there was a raw, tragic grief, unspoken, silent. It is the night that silences all life and cannot comfort. As grandpa Willem expressed in a letter: ‘The center of our joy and happiness has been taken away.’ This grief surfaced for mom throughout her life, everywhere, in all sorts of situations. When dad and mom celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary in 1999, we visited all the houses where we had lived. Every resident welcomed us warmly, from the student house on Hofstraat, which was a chaotic mess, to the house in Zuidwolde, where even a flag was displayed. When we stood in the living room there, mom said: ‘My mother was buried from this room.’ And on her deathbed, she remarked that she had lived 43 years longer than her mother. She couldn’t let go of it; she couldn’t find peace with it. Sad memories are heavy stones that you carry with you. The absence is the heaviest stone. And even though she had such a cheerful, optimistic disposition, that sorrow never faded. Much later, mom also experienced great sadness when Bas and Eva, the prematurely born children of Sjoukje and Eppo, could not and were not allowed to live.
Mom and dad started dating in early 1946, became close friends, and that bond has never faded. Their love has always remained. They got married in 1949. Dad had started working at the PTT, while mom happily worked in our Uncle Sjak’s vegetables store, the husband of her sister Sien, on Zuiderdiep in Groningen.
During the stormy evening of New Year’s Day 1949, the family once again faced a heavy blow when the pastor came to announce that brother Piet had been killed on Java in Indonesia on New Year’s Eve. Again there was sorrow, again it was not spoken of. Grandpa was devastated, everyone was devastated. As mom wrote: ‘It was always as if it were dark, even when the sun was shining.’
Mom was a fantastic mother and grandmother to us, the seven children, the in-laws, the twenty-one grandchildren, and thirty great-grandchildren. We were extremely lucky with our parents. We weren’t smothered, but raised with a lot of love. I grew up in the 1950s and am very grateful for that. People often say it was a dull time. Well, not for kids! Your parents weren’t constantly hovering over you; you had to entertain yourself, explored around, spent a lot of time outdoors, walked to school alone as a toddler, and came home by yourself, with your parents never knowing where you were. Isn’t that wonderful? Mom played a significant role because she was always there. She had her first child at 23, and the rest quickly followed, so we essentially always had a young mother. You could show her off back then, especially because she was cheerful, spontaneous, and welcoming. And she was incredibly strong. We as children, along with friends, could fight her, one against three or four. So, by then, you are about 11 or 12 and fairly capable. There was one rule: if you were on the ground, you couldn’t get back up. Well, we all ended up on the ground! She and dad would sometimes pull off stunts that I wouldn’t recommend to young parents in church. Amidst many mysterious and grand gestures from dad, they would set a cotton ball on fire and then hold it in their mouths. Total astonishment, but it always went well, and we were completely impressed. All seven of us have such memories. You could write a book about it.
Mom could be somewhat fiery and black-and-white in her thinking, but she often regretted it later. She was never grumpy and had an optimistic outlook. Throughout her long life, she had quite a few physical ailments, but she never complained about them.
When I think of mom, I also think of her hands. Her hands that comforted, caressed, prayed, worked, so much comfort, so much caressing, so much praying, so much work. She was always busy, making sure everyone was neatly dressed and that the house was clean and tidy. You could have eaten off the floor. Mom was a very caring mother, hospitable, spontaneous, cheerful, friendly, selfless. She loved us unconditionally, offered us safety and trust. She was involved and always welcomed you with open arms. It was cozy, and I still find the birthdays with all those uncles and aunts legendary. She absolutely could not stand inequality and injustice. From our parents, we learned to give something for others, to help where needed, and also that you should not consider yourself higher or more important than others, but certainly not less. If one of us was treated unjustly, mom could get on her bike and, for example, have a serious talk with a teacher. It would shine in her eyes. Mom always opened her heart and her home to others; she looked out for those who were struggling. Until the end, I had to donate money on her behalf to various charities. Mom was a content person. Not the slumped satisfaction of ‘just be quiet, wait…’, but the active contentment, where the day is greeted and mom labeled a rye bread with cheese as ‘a little cake’ and often used the phrase ‘what do we have, it’s gold’.
When it comes to mom and our family, it naturally revolves around food too. Mom could cook really well, and maybe that’s why we like almost everything. There was never a shortage, and if you dropped by for dinner later, an extra plate was always set, and there was always enough. Nothing was ever thrown away. With nine people in the family, it was quite a noise at the table, and while dad calmly continued eating, mom often said, ‘Come on, join in a bit!’ Other sayings from mom that stuck with us are ‘Can you still live in peace a little?’ And when she encountered annoying things, she often said, ‘Just worry about your own grave.’
Mom was a really good economist. She never went into debt, never spent more than she had, knew what was financially possible and not, practiced reuse, and enough was enough. And it all went like clockwork! I still remember how every Sunday morning there were seven groups of three nickels and a penny laid out on the table for the collection. And a few peppermints. Of course, we did. As kids, we would sometimes ask why we had to go to church. Dad would always say that we didn’t have to, but that we got to. But we still had to, even if it didn’t always go peacefully. I get it: if you’re a member of a club, you also have to attend practice. Mom and Dad always took care of the grocery shopping for vacations together. All of us in a long line on our bikes to Zeegse or Ameland.
Now that we are in our sixties and seventies, we are for the first time no longer children. When I would enter De Brink and someone else was present, my mom always introduced me with the words ‘this is our oldest’. All that was missing was her saying ‘give her a handshake’.
The fifth commandment teaches us: ‘Honor your father and mother.’ You know, that costs me not the slightest effort. How could I not honor someone who has wished for me so deeply, who is involved, welcomes you with open arms, and shows you their love? That applies to all of us.
Mama was een gelovig mens, die veel kracht uit het geloof haalde, hoewel dat wel eens wankelde, zoals ze in haar boek schrijft. Ze miste pa zeer, elke dag, elke nacht. Sinds onze geboorte is ons leven een deel van mama’s leven geweest en zij blijft ons zeer dierbaar. Het belangrijkste bij mama is in wezen altijd ‘liefde’ geweest, voor pa, voor ons, ons nageslacht, voor de naaste, voor God. Met enkele woorden naar Dietrich Bonhoeffer: ‘Niets, werkelijk helemaal niets is de moeite waard zonder liefde; zinvol is het leven waar liefde is’. Ik eindig met een gedeelte uit het gebed, dat Leo O’Donovan, een Jezuïet, uitsprak bij de beëdiging in 2021 van Joe Biden als president van de Verenigde Staten. Ik vind het passend bij mama. ‘Wees ons nabij, Heilig Mysterie van Liefde, als wij samen dromen. Help ons om de mensen met elkaar te verzoenen, blaas onze droom nieuw leven in, en voed die met vrede, gerechtigheid en blijdschap, die uit de liefde overstroomt’.
Discover more from Schoonveld Family
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.