Bereavement

Things got worse at home. My father became very ill and could not work any more. The medical care he received was inadequate due to the lack of available medicines. Any medicines available were taken by the Germans. My father was in great pain and the only pain-relieving drug the doctor could give him was aspirin. Eventually he had to be taken to hospital and he was diagnosed with a disease that required surgery and medication that was not available. Penicillin was still not in use. There was nothing the doctors could do but make empty promises and explanations. The nursing nuns however were devoted and kind as my father lay dying in the Municipal Hospital. My father died like thousands of others due to lack of proper medicine during the German occupation, another victim of the war.

He died on September 1st 1941. He was not yet forty years old. It had been a particularly harrowing period for our family. My mother was weary with anxiety, left a widow at forty with two young boys of ten and twelve years of age at a time when life was very hard for the entire country. I was just sixteen and did not fully realize the extent of the catastrophe this loss meant for the family. In those difficult times it was impossible for my mother to support us all. My contribution to the family income was negligible. She was obliged to place my two brothers in a boarding school, adding much to her grief. It was an establishment run by the Civic Authorities, a home for fatherless, motherless or orphaned boys. It was good home where the children were very well looked after and received a good education up to the age of eighteen. Some were taught a trade, so when they were ready to leave the school, they were well equipped to go out into the world to earn a living. They were allowed to come home at weekends. They wore smart navy blue suits and a beret with the school badge. They had a warm serge wool cape for winter. Discipline was fairly strict and run on military lines. The school also had a brass band, famous throughout the land. Before the war they played their instruments in parades, in processions and other public engagements. Wherever they appeared, spectators would flock to see and hear them, they were very popular. Now their performances were confined to private occasions, prize-giving days in schools and so on. Before long my brothers were both enlisted in the band; Lieven played the French horn, Georges played the clarinet.

We had been a close and happy family and, all of a sudden, our lives were ripped apart. My father had died, my brothers were away from home and now there were just two of us left, my mother and I. We were all unhappy, my brothers took a long time to settle down in the school and only the weekly home visits made the parting bearable. The only relief my mother got from the situation was the knowledge that her sons were adequately fed at the school. It was a big enough worry to feed just the two of us and our diet consisted of the bare essentials. If there were any extras or special treats, they were carefully saved for the weekend “reunions”. We all went to visit my maternal grandmother every week who was residing at a convent home. She was very happy and cheerful and still very active despite her advancing age. She had many friends among the bedridden and infirm old ladies. She did small jobs and errands for them and in return they would give her little treats such as an apple or a much coveted sweet which she always saved for us. Her locker was a treasure trove; she would take us up to her room and always produced something for us to take home. The only thing we could ever please her with were mints. She loved mints, we could still obtain those and we took her some regularly.

My mother took a job in a laundry, it was hard work and her health began to suffer. I had been employed as a home help by the same woman all this time. Shortly after my father’s death, the family was moving to a suburb of Brussels. I was offered to move with them as a live-in domestic helper. The opportunity held a lot of advantages for a better living standard, especially having adequate food as the family were prosperous and able to buy black market provisions. It was a tempting proposition, the pay was not generous but this was outweighed by the other benefits. I was to have a comfortable bed-sitting room and once a month I would have my fare home paid to spend a weekend with my family. Despite our apprehension and yet another parting and the loneliness it would mean for my mother, she thought it would be a good solution and I was persuaded to go. I lasted exactly two weeks. I was so unhappy and homesick it made me ill. I could not eat or sleep and walked around red-eyed from crying all day. Every evening I wrote to my mother, and I felt guilt-ridden for having left her on her own. I just could not stand the thought of us all being split up. My employer was a very kind hearted woman. She could not bear to see me so unhappy and she arranged for my return home. Then I found another job at a cellophane paper company.