Elisabeth

Content Note: This story includes reflections on

wartime loss and death.

I was born in the Netherlands. My family was dysfunctional. My father was drunk, and my mother was abusive. She grew up in a very poor family and believed that, for example, I couldn’t have a bicycle because she couldn’t have one growing up either. She walked, so I could walk too.

I left home at 14 and lived with other people. I worked for them, and they treated me very well. They asked me, “What are you going to do with your life?”, so I went to midwifery school. It was an interesting feeling having a title; they called me a nurse. We also had a uniform.

It was then that I met my husband. My husband lived in Canada, but he was from Holland, in the Netherlands. He said he didn’t like the smell of garlic and that Canadian people ate more garlic, so he came back to Holland to find a wife. I came to Canada with him in 1965. I was 21 and newly wed.

We were married for 25 years, but I don’t think we were really in love with each other. We married because he wanted a wife, and I wanted to escape my circumstances. My mother took all the money away from me, so I thought that I was going to be an old maid forever when he came along.

Ten months later, we had a baby. He was handicapped, and he was an excellent father in the house. He would clean, do the dishes, and feed him. But outside the door, he did not want to be seen since he was in a wheelchair. So I did all the doctor’s appointments and schooling stuff. It was because of the way he was brought up. His mother thought that he should stay out of sight, and he got that attitude.

I wasn’t happy, so I left. I met a gentleman, and he was also divorced. The second marriage was good, but he died. All of my family was back in Holland. I have grandchildren here, but I only see them on occasions like Christmas. Sometimes people want to talk about their grandkids all the time, and I feel ashamed that I can’t talk about it as much. I’m not unhappy, but I think I’m lonely sometimes.

Sometimes I get asked if I would do it all again—move from Holland to here. I’m not sure. I think I may have given my kids better opportunities, but I feel I gave up too much.

Money can be very restricting. Growing up, I couldn’t go to the movies, go dancing, or have swimming classes. I don’t want to sound pitiful, but I never got to do normal “young people” things.

I work four days a week at a Mission Thrift Store, and I really enjoy it. It is a second-hand store. I am a cashier and pack boxes and stuff like that. In my life, I’ve tried public speaking, cooking, sewing, and woodworking, but I would go to every class except for the last class. I’m so afraid that I won’t pass it. Fear of failure took a lot of things from me. 

I also do knitting club so I can be with people. Sometimes, I just like listening to people talk. I find communication is the most important thing in life. With my husband, I would start an argument, and he would walk away instead of talking about it. Don’t just sweep things under the carpet because the air will never be cleared. Make peace before you sleep.