Sept 8 09
A funeral and a family reunion
In Memory of Kate Duivenvoorden, my beloved Aunt who passed away on August 22, 2009
I suddenly found myself on an airplane to New Brunswick last week, seated between my parents and my two grown siblings. An airplane is not a form of transportation I frequent often because of my fear of flying. We’d received the tragic news that my Aunt had passed away from cancer treatment. Her death came as a shock. Suddenly it was easy to put down everything I was doing and travel home.
We are a close family that lives far apart. Over the years it’s been easy to bury myself in my West Coast life, and shove my East Coast roots to the back of my mind. Although my immediate family lives in Victoria, my large extended family is scattered throughout eastern Canada in Ontario, New Brunswick and Newfoundland. As a result, I rarely see them, and had not been back to the original homestead of my grandparents in twelve years.
When my mother’s parents immigrated to Canada from Holland, they bought a dairy farm in Jacquet River, New Brunswick and started a family. My Mother is one of ten siblings. Two, including one of a set of twins were lost in childhood to a rare blood disease. When my Mom was 22 her 23 year-old brother died tragically in a farming accident that left our family devastated by his death. Of course, I wasn’t born then, and I forget that if all had gone as planned I’d have three more uncles.
As if that wasn’t enough tragedy for one family, my grandfather died of lung cancer when I was a child. At that point my grandmother had lived through the deaths of three of her children as well as her husband. How she found the strength to cope is beyond me. But I admire her greatly for being able to live through it, and maintain a positive outlook on life.
When the news came earlier this year that my Aunt wasn’t well, I was shocked that my family was being threatened again. She was my Mom’s next youngest sister, and had endured a lifetime of restrictions that made her one of the strongest and most determined people I know. Her passing came as especially sad news because of her determination to live. After my grandfather died, my grandmother found her house very empty, and seeing as my Aunt didn’t have a family of her own and was living nearby, it made sense for her to move in. My grandmother has not only lost another child, but she has lost a companion. She is living alone again, searching for a new purpose in life.
Jacquet River is a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Good luck finding it on a map. It’s humble, somewhat impoverished and absolutely stunning. The sky is blue and endless, the grass is green and lush. Atlantic surf hits the cliffs like thunder, sending a fresh, crisp breeze into the air. Huge CN freight trains roll through three times a day, a sound I miss hearing in Victoria. Everything smells like the outdoors.
As a kid living in Halifax, I’d spend many summers on what was my grandparents’, and is now my uncle’s farm in Jacquet River, taming all of their barn cats. But it took coming back as an adult to really appreciate the raw beauty of the area. Situated on the Bay of Chaleur, and close enough to Quebec that you can’t trust the clock on your cell phone, it is an undiscovered area full of the most warm and welcoming people. This tiny, unassuming community came together and stretched out their arms to our grieving family. They brought food, flowers, hugs and tender memories.
People on the West Coast of Canada tend to trivialize the Eastern provinces a bit. BC and Alberta like to treat their Eastern counterparts like disadvantaged siblings. I’ve known people who’ve traveled all over the world, but never been east of Alberta because they think there’s nothing there. I’ve heard them say, “Oh, Nova Scotia, aren’t they all poor?”
The things that are important to those of us who live in a society driven by excruciating real estate prices and materialistic tendencies is different than what’s important to humble, small-town people. Here, we tend to over-work ourselves to afford the lifestyle we think we want. There, the people work hard too, but they also take the time to reconnect with each other, usually over a cold beer or a cup of Tim Hortons’ coffee. Small-town life does not look appealing to people who live in a flashy rat race, but it sure looks appealing to me.
In Jacquet River it isn’t the things that matter, it’s the people. Hundreds showed up at the church for my Aunt’s funeral. They were there to support our family and share tears and laughter. Many had stories about my mother when she was growing up. Being back in Victoria makes me realize that I don’t want an expensive house, and a million possessions, and I certainly don’t want to work myself to death so I can afford to live here. I’m not attached to a city that is a bit self-absorbed. I want to be near my family. It is unfortunate that it took the death of a close, well-loved relative for me to realize this. But if it means spending $30,000 on a little summer-house by the water, and getting over my fear of flying, then I’ll do it. And I want a goat and some chickens too. I was born on the East Coast, and raised on the West Coast. But I don’t belong in a city that needs to count its flowers every spring. The time will come for me to go home.
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