Bea brrrr’s with her mouth
Beatrix and Mom Stella visited me this morning.
I described my mother and my father for my writing group in the local Library.
Both descriptions are of my parents in the hospital before they passed away.
My Father passed in 1994 and my mother in 2006.
Mum in hospital
Frail and bony hands were on top of the blanket. She taught us that you never sleep with your hands under the covers. Her handkerchief clenched in one hand. She regularly swept or just held it under her nose. Pale blue eyes looked at me in recognition. Eyes kept wandering up to the shelf where a toy husky looked down at her. “He winked at me. His tongue is hanging out, he smiled at me “came the shaky words. Her hair was sparse and bland. She looked so fragile. She never complained about pain and yet one could see it in her eyes. Her body was swollen twice as big as normal, from all the water caused by heart and also kidneys failure. The physiotherapist came, Mom wanted to show how strong she was. We had to support her; she could hardly sit up. She still asked:” Is it good enough?” She was brave until the end, not complaining about all the pain.
Dad in hospital
He sat in the chair next to the bed.Old and tired of the life. His hands clenched around the armrests of the chair. Those strong hands, which worked hard throughout his life, looked old and wrinkled. The oxygen pipe in his nose helped his shallow and irregular breathing. He was still fighting against the world and its many injustices. He could not make peace with circumstances. Surviving World War II in the Netherlands nearly totally had broken him. He even accused my mum of not loving him at the end! She was the one supporting him his whole life. He just did not trust or believe anyone. He kept on fighting against all will till the end.
Monday afternoon Ouma(that’s me) and Bea spent some time together. Bea had a lot to tell.
About my life and past
I always wanting to please others. I can’t stand up for myself and say what I think because I don’t want to hurt others. This is how it still is today I feel I am always coming last.
I can’t remember much of growing up, only small events come up and then go again.
The ” It’s write easy” sessions every Friday helps me to get closure in my life.
I always had someone in my life that dominated me.
First, it was my father keeping me away from enjoying my life as a scholar. The first years while we were living in Pretoria and then in Erasmia, a tiny “dorpie” (village or small town) at first was quite good. I had a few best friends at school. They even came to my home to play, and I could go on a Friday afternoon and play at their places. The school had only four teachers, and we all played and learned as if we were a big happy family. My school work was of high standard and I also enjoyed the after school activities like “korfball” * and athletics. In my last year in primary education, I was the best girl athlete in school.
Then came the bad years. We moved to a “plot”**, away from anything. When I look back on those years, we lived a life of going nowhere. I did not have any friends during my High school years. There was no opportunity to make friends. I could not take part in any after school events because my father did not want to pick me up afterwards. (I understand it was difficult for him, it was out of his way to pick me up) My school work did not go well. I can’t remember if there was time for homework at all.
We did not have electricity at home. We still used candles. I had to get up early, help my mother to milk the goats and then off to school in the school bus that took about an hour to get to school. Coming back by bus in the afternoons, I had to look after the goats while they were grazing in the fields.
I got more and more lonely. Nobody to talk to, nothing. At the end I passed high school every year, I don’t know how but I did. Those years were very hard years.
I appreciate it that my parents looked after me that well. I could actually never expand my way or use my ideas. I was always criticised no matter what I said or did.
a small piece or area of ground:
a garden plot; burial plot.
a measured piece or parcel of land:
a house on a two-acre plot.
I am way behind with my blogging.
Look at the tiny hairs growing on the side!
While house sitting I started a baby throw for little Bea.
As soon as I was back I had to quickly make another jersey for her because the weather was still cold and unpleasant.
In two days I finished this one off.