A lifetime of treasured memories

I just finished reading my grandmother's journal last night, having picked it up from time to time and reading a couple of pages here and there. I didn't want to devour it -- first of all, I didn't have time to read it all in one sitting, but I think a part of me wanted to stretch this experience out for as long as possible, for the longer I was reading about her the longer I would have this feeling of being closer to her. Thankfully I'm not an emotional wreck -- I did get emotional, tearing up at certain entries, but that's OK. I am enjoying so many things about her, about her family, about history, what life was like back in the 1920s and 1930s. But what amazes me is how much I'm learning! Things I never knew about her or others in my family:

- I never knew that she didn't learn how to drive a car until after I was born. Her reason: she just had way to much to do and didn't want to rely on others for rides. She was determined, to say the least.
- I never, ever knew my grandfather had such a soft, loving side to him. He did cute, little romantic things for her, telling her he loved her (that was good to hear). He very often took care of their daughters -- when my mother was a newborn (my grandmother didn't know how to handle babies and my grandfather came from a family of eight), when she was sick so many times, etc.
- I never knew that my grandfather was in the hospital for 17 days for quadruple bypass surgery, back in the early 1980s (times have changed!). I have a vague memory of him being sick but that's it. My grandmother rented a room in a local motel to be near him. My other grandmother stayed with her for a weekend, but she was afraid of the neighbors because they had "beer parties."
- I never knew my great-aunt Ruth was a church organist for many years.
- I never knew my grandparents went to a certain inner-city church for years
- I never knew my great-aunt Henrietta played the trumpet
- I never knew my great-grandfather (my grandpa's dad) had a stroke
- I never knew that my grandfather taught evening classes on textiles (he worked in a textile factory), and I never knew that the extra money he made went toward the purchase of their beloved piano (which was bequeathed to me. Unfortunately, though, I couldn't take it with me during this last move because we have no room in our apartment. That broke my heart into a million pieces. It's still in the family, though -- my cousin has it in her home now).
- When my grandparents first met and started dating, my grandfather asked her to start an orchestra with him (he played cello, she the violin).
- My grandmother's education ended at the 8th grade. She so desperately wanted to continue on to high school but her parents adamantly said, "No." She asked for a compromise -- a two-year course -- but her parents stood firm. She had to go to work, so she did at a local factory.
- My grandmother and her two sisters all died at the same age of 91.

Some really cool things about my grandmother that are good to remember:
- She was born in Holland, and my great-grandfather went to Canada to find a job. When he found one, my great-grandmother traveled across the ocean alone with her three young daughters (aged 5 1/2, 3 1/2, and 1 1/2 - my grandma was the baby). Interesting stories of their travel on the boat: other immigrants were "rough characters," stealing their soap or their food; my great-grandmother praying for safety every night outside, looking up at the heavens.
- Their primary method of transportation were their feet -- walking everywhere -- or the bus. Very, very common back then.
- My grandmother was a very accomplished violinist, singer, and composer of hymns. One of her greatest achievements: meeting and playing the violin for George Beverly Shea, as well as playing on a Christian radio show with my great-aunt (her oldest sister).
- My grandmother and her sisters were quite the evangelists! They used to go to the inner city prisons and give their testimonies before all of the inmates.

As I progressed through her journal, the latter entries ceased to be reminiscences but rather became diary entries -- "Today, Judy and Henry came to visit me ..." or "Labor Day 2001 - Today we expect to have a Picnic at Joanne and Hans' - Johnnie, Dick and Ruth are coming too." Her entries about Don and me are funny, especially when Aidan was born. My grandmother had a terrible time adjusting to the name of our son. She just didn't understand it -- an Irish name didn't make sense to her. When my mother first told her of the name (probably a few times so she would get it), my grandmother responded, "Well, I don't think I like that name. I'm going to call him Adrian instead." (Who does that?!). She had quite a few Dutch acquaintances named "Adrian" so I guess she could relate to that. Sure enough, that first journal entry mentioned our new baby, Adrian ... then "Adian" ... then finally Aidan.

Her final entry was dated Oct. 20, 2003, almost four months before she fell and broke her ribs (the beginning of the end) and five months before she died of a terminal stroke. She first spoke of her mother, born in 1886: Dear Mother Veenstra passed away today, 10/20/1967. I was thinking how all my life I loved music, then I remembered my dear parents loved to sing, too. Dad Veenstra's favorite was "Jesus, Priceless Treasure" in the Psalter Hymnal. Mother Veenstra loved "Jesus is all the world to me." When we went to church in Canada we sang, "No, not one." Mother loved also "Jesus Savior Pilot Me" -- was sung by Henrietta at our wedding. I added an extra verse, "Jesus, Savior, Pilot me / as we travel on with Thee / Be our guide and be our stay / Lead and guide us on our way / Help us trust thee day by day / Savior, lead us all the way." Johanna's favorite, "Old Rugged Cross." A singing family. We sang "Heavenly Sunshine" when our girls were babies."

We sang her wedding hymn at her funeral, along with the final verse that she composed. I cried when I finished reading this journal last night -- that closeness I felt to her came to a close, in a sense. What a wonderful time I had with her these past few days! It had gotten to the point where I could see her so clearly, I could hear her voice speaking these entries to me, and when I finished reading it, thinking of this last hymn at her funeral and now she's seeing that "Heavenly Sunshine," I mourned her all over again. The theme of her life had been trust -- it appeared over and over and over again in her journal. I miss her strength of spirit, her strength of faith, but I'm glad this journal -- this small part of her -- will always be with us.