On this page, you could read the last 14 days of my father’s life. Days which were a real nightmare for us (and for him as well) and which my mother and I still remember to this day on. The sadness, the pain, the uncertainty we went trough knowing that these days would be the last days of his life. We still have the words in our minds the doctor said to us: "It was better for him, he would never be the old one anymore" after he died on September 9, 1982 at 17:15 in the afternoon.

Daddy you have always been an example, a beacon for us and we’ll never forget that. Even as we’ll never forget all the good memories we have on you and all the great moments we spent together over the years. We hope that you found your peace now, the peace you searched so hard for the last days of your life. We’ll always, always love you and you’ll be in our minds by everything we are doing.

My mother wouldn’t travel with us, because she wasn’t feel well. In the morning my father was very nervous (which he hardly never was) and he yelled as us (which he hardly never did), but that was something that happened more the last couple of weeks so we just ignored it.

In the train to Utrecht he told me, that he had had some pain in his chest (he had angina pectoris since July) but he didn’t say a word about it to my mother. He also told me then that he went to the doctor last week, because he had his doubts about this vacation. But the doctor saw no reasons not to go, so we went away. That he was also suffering from pain in his arms, was something I heard later from my mother. I felt real angry at the time. Why had nobody told me this before? I wasn’t a child anymore and when I had known it, I had canceled the whole trip and stayed at home. And probably a lot of things would have changed then.

Well anyway, when the train arrived, we went inside. I carried the first bag and my father the other. I put number one in our compartment and went back to take the other bag over from my father, but he was stocked between (I guess) Spanish people who were bumping up to him. One of them wanted to go inside and the other two outside. Then one of them said: "The wrong train" and they disappeared. We looked at the window and my father said: "Up we go" or something like that. We eat something and talked a little. When we arrived in Hengelo we wanted something to drink, but then we realized a horrible thing: my father’s wallet was missing! We looked everywhere and my father became even more nervous as he had been before. The wallet never showed up and we realized that one of these Spanish people must have taken it! Luckily he had only put some guilders and so on in his wallet. The other things were hired inside his jacket. He convinced me that there was really nothing important inside his wallet, but from that moment everything went wrong.

 We arrived in Hamburg around half past two and watched the big ships. Then we decided to sleep a little. We went up so early this morning. My father slept for awhile, but I couldn’t. I felt so nervous and I had really no idea why. Then it became half past three in the afternoon. A time I’ll never forget as long as I live. I saw my father with his right hand going to his left wrist so I knew that the pain in his chest was back again. But the pain was still there. Even after taking a pill. And it continues to do so one hour after another. He went grey, and had hands cold as ice. I really had no idea what to do. I looked around for help, but there wasn’t anybody. The only thing I could do was sitting beside him and talk to him. He was still breathing, if that would have stopped…… In a couple of minutes time he became many years older. I realized that he was very ill and I prayed that we made it to Copenhagen. And we did! There in the hotel I phoned a doctor, but he couldn’t find anything anymore! Later I heard that that is normal. After several hours it’s hard to diagnose a heartattack!

Luckily we had some rooms, laying beside each other, and I advised him to knock on the wall when he needed something. I can tell you, that it has been the longest night of my whole life. Of course, I started to cry when I was alone in my room. I also thought on my mother who had no idea what happened. I couldn’t speak a word Danish and I wished only one thing "I want to go home!" In the middle of the night, my father decided to go home the next morning and I searched for the exact hour of departure the next morning. That was 10 o’clock so when I left my father alone again I started to pack and slept a little till it was 7 o’clock, time to get up and to travel home.