Mortality isn’t something we usually discuss.
When you are small, a teenager, or even an adult in your twenties and thirties, mortality isn’t something most of us even think about. As we get older, mortality intrudes into our lives in subtle ways, and our relationship with our parents is one of those most notable ones.
For most of us, one or both of our parents have always been a constant in our lives. They are always there, good, or bad, we have known them longer than anyone else.
Then one day, you notice how quickly they have gotten older, and you wonder how you hadn’t noticed.
When we stop long enough to think about it, we realize why. With the rush of everyday life, our own kids, sports, school, working, and distance, nobody means for the visits to become shorter or less frequent apart, but it happens.
At some point, we joined and fundamentally changed our parents’ lives. In our memory, there isn’t any separation. It is easy to forget before us, they had already been doing things and had lives without us. Experiences, successes, and failures; some of which we are aware of, and others that we are oblivious to.
I am fortunate, both of my parents are still present in my life. Although divorced and remarried, they are both much happier with their second spouses. Any upset or even bitterness I felt in my childhood has long since been replaced by my appreciation all four of them are and deserve to be happy.
I have recently been reminded of mortality, however, as one of my stepparents is now invalid and their remaining time may only be measured in days, weeks or months. It made me realize; how little I know of some of the aspects of their lives. This post was inspired by my strong desire to learn more about them.
I suspect that many of us have questions, that we should ask but haven’t. Appreciating that time is finite, I am suggesting we all take the time, not because of theirs or ours pending mortality but because we should. These are my questions; for some of them, I know the answers, and for others, I will be asking over our next conversations.
Where were they born? This one I knew, but I realize how little I know. My father was born in the Netherlands. My grandfather was a wealthy man who was wiped out in the 1953 flood that destroyed large parts of their country. His family was lucky to survive, but his business did not. My mother was born in Georgetown, Ontario. Neither has spoken much about their childhoods over the years, from now on I will be asking them to share more so I can better understand their past.
What did they want to be when they grew up? My father wanted to be a Diesel Mechanic, he is blessed with amazing knowledge and ability with machinery. My mother would likely have gone to university and was to have been the valedictorian of her class. Neither was able to pursue those desires because of a teenage pregnancy, mine. My father went to work to support his family and my mother was not allowed to be the valedictorian because of the mid-1960s attitudes. They both have subsequently had successful careers but their initial struggles are hard to appreciate today.
Who were their parents, and how would they describe them? I know remarkably little about their parents, unfortunately, and it is something that I am going to try to correct. Both grandfathers fought in the second world war, and my grandmothers raised ten and eight children respectfully. My paternal grandmother was part of the Dutch Underground for several years while the Netherlands was occupied by the Nazis. My maternal grandfather was at Dieppe and was one of only three survivors of the il-planned massacre. I would like to know more about these very interesting people I only knew as grandma and grandpa. They were nice and treated me well, but I now realize I had no idea of the lives they led.
Where and why did they meet, and what were they doing when they did meet? My parents grew up in the same small town. I do not know how they met, but like so many of these questions I am going to ask.
Where did they grow up, tell me about the houses they lived in. My mother grew up in a nice house on a quiet street in a small town with her sisters and one brother. The house was also haunted, which startled me as a child, but interests me now as an adult. My father’s first home was destroyed in the flood, and he only barely escaped drowning because his oldest brother helped him when the water caused the second-story floor they were standing on to collapse. In Canada, they were initially split among some sponsoring families and when they did come back together, my grandfather started his own business and struggled as an immigrant with a large family, and they moved many times.
What was their most vivid childhood memory? The stories of my father going flying as a young teenager at various times with another older brother stand out for me with him. Another time he and a buddy were going to build an airplane with hockey sticks is another one that makes me smile. For my mother, it is the story of why school buses stop at railway intersections that is perhaps her most vivid childhood memory. One day, a bus from the local high school was returning the students to their school. The students were loud, the bus driver was distracted, and there was no regulation to stop. A freight train hit the bus and killed six of her friends and injured many more. She was a young teenager and fortunately, she was on another bus, but the effect on her and other friends was a dramatic lesson about mortality.
How did their family celebrate Christmas or other holidays? Both families had very busy and enjoyable Christmases. There were never as many presents as my own children have experienced, but the sense of family was always tangible. I do remember that in one of my father’s first Christmas together in Canada, they were renting a farmhouse and the landlord stopped by and almost had a heart attack when he realized they had used real candles to decorate their Christmas tree.
What was their favorite or infamous family trip or vacation? With such large families, neither of my parents has spoken much about family trips or vacations. For my father, coming to Canada as a refugee from Holland stands out the most. He was six years old; his world had been wrenched away and it is hard to imagine how I would have dealt with what he and his family endured. This is a question; I will be asking my mother about soon for her memories.
What things have they done that would surprise you? While not a surprise, the few stories my father has shared about his experiences as a volunteer firefighter only serve to build my respect for him. For more than twenty years, he responded at all hours of the day to house, grass, and vehicle fires. He had people I knew, friends, literally die in his arms, and yet he kept on volunteering. My mother parlayed her high school education into a solid career in municipal government and has been involved in community development on many different levels that I am only now fully appreciating.
What is their favorite memory of you? As with most parents, it is difficult to choose only one. My mom speaks fondly of one of our first homes, one was a former shed that could not have been more than 10 x 10 but had two levels. They fixed it up and we lived there for almost two years. Later it was actually used as a chicken coop. My father in many ways was completely different than me, perhaps understandable as he was only eighteen years older than me. As we have both grown older, our relationship has evolved and grown closer. Perhaps, what might stand out is our phone calls every few days now. My stepmother’s declining health has put a heavy burden on him. They live five hours aware and although I haven’t been able to see them in person much, these calls help connect us and allow him to share his thoughts and worries. It is a nice feeling being able to help him now.
Who were their best friends growing up? Few of us are lucky enough to have remained close with our high school, middle, or elementary school friends. My mother has been able to do so. One, in particular, stands out, a woman with the now seldom used nickname of “Snookie.” They have been friends for almost seventy years. My father knows many people, his brothers and sisters though would likely be his best friends. Their early interdependence on each other forged a relationship of “the brothers and sisters,” which has endured through their life events, and is only now diminishing as morality and time begins to catch up with them.
Tell me about the pets they have had? My father grew up in a family that loved animals, my grandfather had a gentleness and love of animals that my father inherited allowing him to instantly relate to and understand any kind of animal, but especially dogs. From the most vicious guard dog to the oldest and meekest ones, he has never met a dog he couldn’t like. I will have to ask my mom about her favorites, but her family over time had dogs and even horses.
What is something you have done, that you are most proud of? Choosing one thing might be difficult, I have yet to ask this question, but in my work, when I interview people, it is one of my favorite questions to ask. I suspect I know what they will say, but I am looking forward to their answers.
So, these are my questions and some of my parents answers. You will have your own depending on your relationships with your parents. I plan to ask the rest of my questions and ask even more in a belated but important desire to strengthen relationships I know I have taken for granted. I have a strong personal wish to learn more about them and their (my) family histories. I knew my grandparents but knew little of our collective history before them. I want to share our history with my own children. Nobody knows how much time any of us has and we should all use our opportunities well. The question of mortality isn’t my focus, the appreciation of our families is.
Good luck with your questions,
Paul.