On October 18, 2017 at 5:17 in the morning, Frits breathed his last. He died very peacefully in his sleep. We suspect he was in a coma that last couple of hours of his life. He left me very quietly, leaving everything behind. Our children, our home, his clothing, his books. And me. Even his body. All stayed behind, but he was not there anymore.

He had always asked me to make sure he was dead before he would be cremated. I kept my promise and asked the undertakers if they were sure my husband was dead. They and my children assured me that he was.

I slipped a hankie and a clean pair of socks in his casket. All his life he had a clean, washed and ironed hankie in his pocket. Lately, he had such cold feet, and the first thing I did was put on his socks. My children and I left a love note in his shirt pocket and a white rose in his hands. He was no longer with us, but we wanted to be with his body as long as we could.

We held his memorial service three weeks later. The booklets were printed, and I kept reading and re-reading the service. It was strangely comforting. The children and grandchildren arranged everything. I translated Frits’ special hymn from Dutch into English and grandson Jamie Brown made it so it could be sung. He did so at the memorial service.  

Frits was not cremated until the day before the service. I had asked the funeral home to tell me when the cremation would be, so I could accompany my husband for as long as it was possible. I was asked if I wanted the casket to be open or closed. I said, “open.” It was the last time I would see my beloved husband. He was not there anymore. His body was. His face. Not alive. It was so painful. I don’t know how long I looked at him, how long it took me to be willing to let him go.

He was not there any more. But I was not with him, and that was the only place I wanted to be. I finally agreed to close the coffin and let him be cremated. The coffin slowly started towards the oven. I was standing again in Auschwitz with my husband, looking at the ovens where his cousins and Keetie van Zanten were burned. I left.

I know that Frits is now in Heaven with his Savior. But it still hurts.