This morning was cloudy and humid, but, still good walking weather. Not long after setting out I ran into Anna, one of the regular walkers, whom I hadn’t seen for a while. She was on her own today because her walking companion, Joy, had had a medical procedure and had decided not to venture out this week. I was glad to hear that she would be walking again soon and I asked Anna to pass on my best wishes.
Further along Logan and Jules were also on the path. They were walking rather than fishing today and they mentioned that Dick, another regular, was sitting in the covered area near the pier, reading his newspaper. I know that that is Dick’s usual morning routine but nonetheless, I was surprised. He hadn’t expected to be here this week, because of an operation that he had had and I was really looking forward to catching up with him.
Despite being distracted by these welcome encounters this morning, I had been very preoccupied and lost in my own thoughts when I had first set out. One of my sisters, Ria, who was 2 years younger than me (I was the eldest of 8 children, she the second) had passed away two days ago. The realisation of how much I will miss her was gradually hitting me. Ria was born in 1938, two years before Hitler’s invasion of The Netherlands (on 10 May 1940) which marked the start of World War II for us. Hence, the war had a very big impact on both of our early lives.
When the war broke out in 1940, our parents, who were still very young, already had 3 children. Then, in 1943, in the middle of the war, our twin sisters were born. During the winter from late 1944 to early 1945 there was a severe shortage of food and we all suffered from malnutrition. Then, right at the end of the war, another sister, Joke, was born. Sadly however, she lived for only 11 days. I still, to this day, have clear memories of some of the events which occurred during this period.
Our home was located close to a railway line which was bombed from time to time. On one occasion this happened when Ria and I were walking, in the middle of the day, to have a meal at a bakery which was owned by relatives. There was not enough food at home, so we had to walk 3 km to the other end of the village. That day, the planes, which seemed to hurl straight down onto us, came very close. They were “dive bombers”, a term which became very well known to us, because they screamed down from the sky and made very loud, frightening noises. Even as children, we were already aware of how dangerous they were. I had to take Ria back home because we were terrified. Ria was 2 years old when the War started and 7 when it finished. As I wrote earlier, the war dominated our early lives and, in time, it also helped to shape our later lives.
After the war our parents had 3 more children and by the time my father was 33, he and my mother had 8 children. From very early on, Ria was always a great help to our parents, looking after the younger children. She loved to play with dolls and acted as a true “mother” to all the young ones.
Our “Mama”, as we called her, was the warmest and most giving person in our lives. Everything in the house revolved around her. Even after the war there was often very little money, but our parents managed to feed and care for all of us. This made us into a very strong and close family and we all pay tribute to our parents, who helped us to survive the difficult times and to enjoy the happier ones. After the war and despite the terror, Ria grew up as a happy girl, fully engaged in the family’s daily life.
These were the memories that were occupying my thoughts this morning as I walked along the Sandgate waterfront and onto the Shorncliffe Pier. Ria ended up marrying my closest friend. They migrated to Canada, where they spent all of their married life, and I ended up in Australia. Ria was 85 years old when she died.
Near the end of my walk, I was grateful to run into Logan and Jules again, which gave me the opportunity to talk a little about my sister. It did me good to share some of my memories with them and it proved to me that “Walking and Talking” can be beneficial in both good times and bad.
O.P.
P.S. Next Sunday’s post will be entitled “E-Bikes & Old Bikes” and includes some stories about our cycling life in the Netherlands.
A very moving tribute to your sister Piet. It took me right back there with you and helped me understand your family more too. Thank you OP.
I appreciate your comment Mike. O.P.