Jochem called me yesterday as I sat waiting for a flight in Oviedo, Spain to bring me back home to Sweden. The family in the Netherlands had called and Jochems dad was not doing well. It was time for the last sacrament and time to take farewell.
It is never easy to say farewell and especially when it is someone close to you, someone who has had a serious role in shaping the person you have become, the person you are. I think it goes against everything we are used to, to see our parent’s mortality. They have always been there and they were here first.
- He has had a good life, Jochem said to me, as if trying to convince his heart it was not as bad as if felt.
I sat at the airport trying to make my picture of Jacques whom I met the first time in 1997 and I think Jochem is right. Jacques has had a good life. Not an easy life but a life well lived with a partner next to him who made hard times easier. I had a book with me at the airport, which seamed to fit the moment and the mindset I was in. Let me sing you gentle songs by Linda Olsson tells a story about life, death and the choices we have to make to be able to take in love. My Jacques is a gentle, humble man of few words with a great love for teaching and sport – a man who was not afraid of love. I only met that Jacques the first few years in the late 90s and more occasionally in the years to come. In 1999 he got lost while visiting us in Nijmegen and the year after he took Ingrid, then 1, for a walk and disappeared. Several hours later, with the help of the police and an observant person they were found. Jochem went to pick them up and Jacques, filled with shame said:
- all the houses and all the streets looked the same and I had no address.
Jochem responded by telling him how they had written a note with the address and put in the wallet. Jacques had a look in his wallet and found the note. He cried.
Alzheimer is a terrible decease and it affects everyone. Jacques had it but both Nell and Jacques suffered from it, just as the rest of the family. For some years the progression was quite slow but a year or two ago Jochem realized that Jacques did not recognize him anymore. There were moments that were clearer, when memories and people would find a way into Jacques mind but they became more and more rare. Two weeks ago Jacques moved into a special home. It was a big and difficult step for Nell but a step they had to take. They have spent more than 55 years together, shared numerous moments together and climbed both mountains and travelled deep valleys.
The last sacrament is a rite in which God is uniquely active according to Catholics. As a protestant I have little knowledge of this rite but know it is important to Nell and Jacques. Yesterday a priest arrived to sprinkle holy water and say a prayer. I have learned that the last sacrament means that the priest will lay his hands on the person. The use of the priest's hands is a sign the Holy Spirit is being called down to support the dying person. The forehead and hands of the person are anointed with an oil which means that the dying person is given peace in their last moments and sins are forgiven. I like to believe that this is a special moment for both Jacques and Nell, a moment which will strengthen them on the journey to come. If you have shared 55 years together it is not easy to part.
I arrived home from Spain at midnight and Jochem left for the Netherlands at 5 am this morning. We talked about Jacques and we talked about what he has passed on to Jochem and to me.
- My dad took me to the gym hall at the school where he taught PE every Saturday when I was a kid, Jochem said. We would do gymnastic, play football, climb and practice all kinds of sports. He was there, he made me feel great, he had time and if I as a father to my kids can make them feel the same way I will have succeeded.
Every person leaves something behind, something worth keeping. We have had lots of gifts from Jacques.
Jacques Geeraedts 1926 07 18-2011 01 29
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