Laura

Just before Christmas, my mom phoned me to tell me my aunt Laura had passed away.  A bit over a year ago, we celebrated her 100th birthday, in her own absence due to the covid risk. 

I am glad that I managed to get over for a short visit at the end of October after 2 years of Covid absence...these pictures date back from 2019 and 2013/2014? I am hardly ever in the area, but I rationally knew I had to take the occasion for a visit when it arrived, since statistics were running against her. And now I feel so relieved and grateful to have seen her even though she was not aware anymore of my presence. 

So when my mom called, it didn't feel like a surprise. But it does feel like quite a loss.  

As my dad's oldest sister, she was due to the age difference a bit a surrogate mother to him and a surrogate grandmother to me.  

She was born with her sister in Canada and went to elementary school in Ontario. But my grandparents migrated back to Belgium in the 30ies with their 2 pre-teen daughters and more than a decade later my dad was born.  A few years later she was married to the love of her life, living a few houses further. When the Canadian army rolled through the streets when they liberated the town in '44, they distributed some chocolate to her thinking this toddler at her legs was her child, but it was my father.  One year later, barely 5 years after my dad was born, her oldest daughter and first child of 6 was born.  But in the village, it was commonly assumed that my dad was her oldest son, instead of her baby brother.  The gardens of my grandparents and my aunt/uncle connected. 

I've hardly known my grandparents, but visiting my aunt  (whose husband was also my godfather) gave me the feeling that this is how visiting grandparents must be.  It was always a warm house, buzzing with activity.  You were offered freshly baked waffles, or ordered to take some candy from the well-known candy drawer.  Each year, I lined up with some grandchildren to read my new year's letter on my turn. The cupboards were full of pictures of their many children and grandchildren.  She wrote letters to all her Canadian cousins until most of them had passed away and the letters stopped coming. 
At high age, she had lost her leg and also her eyesight, and she became a widow after my godfather peacefully passed away during an afternoon nap in the sofa.  Nevertheless, she remained very bright and could instruct you very well to go and fetch this bottle of wine or that packages of cookies for us during a visit in the basement where her household help should have put it, which we ate together while telling stories of people in the family and village which she picked up from her visitors.  Then she moved to a home where you could spot her in her seat next to her ground floor room.  "Hey it's Goofball", I always announced myself loudly, so she'd know who came into the room. 

She's outlived her husband, her daughter, her daughter-in-law, her sister and her baby brother.  Living very long isn't always a gift. The last time I managed to have a partial conversation with her in 2019, I knew that was her feeling too. 

On the day before Christmas I drove across the country to gather with all her loved ones in the church under which shadow she's lived about 90 years, where Arnold has directed the choir for decades.  Both middle aisles were filled with her offspring. What an incredible sight to witness.  She can now finally rest next to Arnold again, close by her parents.  Rest in peace, Laura.  You've deserved your rest, but we will miss you.