Today marks 25 years since our father Johannes Schoonveld passed away. We still miss him often. We want to ask him things, we miss his support.
Yesterday, when I visited Uncle Harke, he spoke several times about his older brother Jo. He had studied, went to MULO, and spoke English.
Below is the text that brother Piet spoke at Pa’s funeral, along with the words of Aunt Co and the reflections of Rev. de Mooij. Also a letter that his brother Auke sent us after his passing and some parts of letters of condolances about his character.
Our dedicated and humorous father and grandfather
As children, when we remember our father, Dad, it can only be done together with Mom. Dad could not be without Mom, and Mom could not be without Dad.
51 years ago, they received the following as their wedding text: The eternal God is your dwelling and underneath you are His everlasting arms.
What they expected from God for their marriage, they wanted to be for us, and that’s what they have been for us. A home where we could always go, a safety net we could always fall back on. Without conditions!
For us, it was especially important to know that the safety net was there, even if it was not intended for us to fall into it. But it could, it was allowed, and it was there.
Dad also did not want to be anything other than a safety net, not a leader telling us what we should do, not someone who corrected us when we did something wrong. What we did was always our choice, and he accepted the choices we made. He fully accepted our wives as his daughters, and he was there for them too. He never criticized us or our actions. That unconditional acceptance has been extremely valuable to us, and the absence of this safety net is a loss we feel deeply.
His non-critical acceptance did not stem from distance or disinterest.
On the contrary! He was very involved with each of us. He wanted to know what we were doing. He wanted to meet our friends. He enjoyed teasing us in his well-known humorous way. This was true in our youth and remained so when we moved out and started living independently. We, his children and grandchildren, were always more than welcome, and we knew that. We could always bring friends over, at any time of day, and he was happy for it.
In the past, we did not know any different and assumed that hospitality and involvement were normal, but later we realized that we had a unique pair of parents. Dad’s involvement continued even as he aged. Until the very last week of his life!
Through their emigration to America and return to the Netherlands, Dad and Mom made things difficult for themselves. Half of the children there, the other half here. As soon as it was possible after his early retirement, and for as long as they could, Dad and Mom divided their time and attention between America and the Netherlands. For 16 years, they were nomads moving from one side of the world to the other every six months. Not being able to do this in the last two years was a heavy loss for Dad.
They followed us wherever we or our children went. From Westenholte to Michigan, from Oregon to Rotterdam, from Scotland to Madrid. Even this year, they planned to go to Ghana and to the graduation of their grandson Michael in Idaho. That involvement was normal for Dad and Mom, and they enjoyed living that way. They helped us a lot, with painting and wallpapering, and with working in our gardens.
In the last two months of his life, Dad experienced that his wife, children, sisters, brothers, friends, neighbors, and acquaintances wanted to be the same safety net for him that he had been for them. This meant a lot to him, very much indeed. It helped him a great deal to accept the illness and his end in a dignified manner.
He struggled with the fact that more and more actions required great effort or were no longer possible. From walking outside in the first weeks of the illness to breathing in the last days.
His last breath came as a laborious release, and he trusted that God’s eternal arms would catch him.
We would like to thank everyone, sisters, brothers, neighbors, friends, and acquaintances who, with a card, a phone call, or a visit, made Dad’s last two months as pleasant as possible and who helped him accept his passing. It relieved Dad to know that Mom would receive the same help and support when he was no longer here.
In the last one and a half weeks, our aunts, his sisters, along with Mom, provided Dad with all the attention and care he needed, day and night. We gratefully thank them for that.
In particular, we want to thank our family doctor, Dr. Meeder, whose care and involvement made a profound impression on Dad and for which he was very grateful.
We thank Os de Mooij for agreeing to fulfill Dad’s request to lead this service, despite the emotion that Dad’s passing also evokes in him.
Finally, we would like to thank all of you for your presence. It comforts us to see that Dad was not only involved with us but also with so many others.
In Memoriam Johannes Schoonveld
by Aunt Co, Jacoba Smit-Schoonveld
Jo, our brother is no longer here.
His illness was brief. When we heard about it 2 months ago, we were devastated.
Jo said, “It is what it is. I am 77 and have had a good life, it’s time for me to go.”
As a brother, he was our go-to person. If we didn’t know something, we would say, “Just ask Jo, he surely knows.” He could tell you everything about years gone by; anything you wanted to know.
When we came to help, Jo, knowing his sisters, said: “Respect Fokje, she deserves that.” He was always caring, sometimes a bit impatient.
He was proud of his six sons (and rightly so!), his daughters-in-law, and his grandchildren.
Beaming, he talked about the many calls from America; Piet, Koos, and Wim called again! I would reply, “See how much they love you.” Jo eagerly agreed.
They all visited, and the farewell was very difficult. It felt like ‘never again’, and that hurt.
During his illness, he still kept his humor. After a severe bout of breathlessness, he said with a bit of a laugh: “Why do I keep making such a fuss?”
He continued to smoke his pipe and cigar, saying, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
We heard no complaints. It was even quite enjoyable when he wasn’t struggling to breathe.
He also shared about his choir, in which he loved to sing. Now we know he is singing in the Heavenly Choir.
In the last week, we begged God for his release from physical discomfort.
He has been freed, God has done well by him.
Reflection by Rev. H.N. de Mooij at the funeral of Johannes Schoonveld on Tuesday, April 25, 2000, in the Hoeksteen in Zwolle.
It happened remarkably quickly, within two months. The mourning card states: After a bravely endured suffering. Not a word too much: never a word of complaint or rebellion. He would have loved to live longer, as he enjoyed life. And also: who would take care of Fokje? Your caring husband, Fokje. You were married for over 51 years. In the sober and difficult years just after the war, during a time of housing shortages, you gave each other the vow: for better or worse, in wealth and poverty, in health and sickness until death separates you. That separation has now come, it hurts, a lot. As in every marriage, there were highs and lows. Highlights: Of course, the birth of your six sons. And also the 50th wedding anniversary with everyone present. And the first grandchild who got married. Lowlights: among others, that the family was scattered when you returned to the Netherlands, and the loss of two grandchildren, the last one barely a month ago. Jo and Fokje shared everything with each other, love and sorrow, and it was very sad that in recent times this was less possible due to Fokje’s declining memory. 77 years span between his birth and death. Not everyone gets that. Jo’s father became a widower with three small children. Jo was the oldest of the eleven children born from the second marriage. After a short and bravely endured suffering. That was not just physical suffering. It was also the pain of letting go, of saying goodbye. And also a spiritual struggle. I will come back to that. Piet has just expressed on behalf of the children in a loving, moving way what the words “our caring and humorous father and grandfather” mean to them. One of the key phrases was: unconditional acceptance. Unconditional does not seem to be one of the words that described Jo Schoonveld. He had a sharp mind and could hit hard when necessary. Critical of language use, critical of colleagues. But there was also criticism rooted in wisdom, relativity, irony, and gentleness, respecting others. Unconditional acceptance is therefore the same as unconditional acceptance. Unconditional: You love them, you accept them as they are. Even if you don’t always agree with them, even if they tread paths you wouldn’t choose. Unconditional acceptance: you love them, you embrace them in your heart, your children, both biological and in-laws, your grandchildren. And for Dad, this was not primarily a matter of words but of deeds. Such was his demeanor. Expressing feelings, personal, innermost feelings, was not easy for Jo. He did not reveal much about his inner life. His wife and children noted: In trust in the Lord. That is true, that is comforting, it even reaches beyond death. It was one of the deepest motivations of his life. His faith shaped him, gave him strength and comfort, helped him overcome disappointments, enabled him to forgive. And so we come to the text on the mourning card; those words from the well-known chapter on love. Words that are often read at wedding confirmations, but hardly at a funeral. It was the choice Jo made himself. A week before his death, I had a conversation with him, and the intention was to continue this later. Unfortunately, that was not to be. Yet I gained an impression from what he shared about himself, his feelings, and thoughts regarding those intriguing words:
for now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. We do not understand these words if we think of the mirrors we know today: glass with a silver coating that shows you exactly what you look like. In antiquity, the mirror was a metal case, and the image seen was vague, shadowy, unclear, distorted—somewhat like a funhouse mirror. Our knowledge of God, our faith in Him, Paul is saying, is still vague, incomplete, distorted; our view of Him is not clear, we grope around in the dark, much remains a mystery. Recently, Jo has had questions about this: how will it be after my death, what should I imagine, will there be recognition? And he realized: that mystery cannot be solved now. It is also not important. One thing is certain: We will be amazed. I mentioned earlier his physical suffering: that was particularly the physical distress during the night. But there was more distress. What about me, can I meet God? Because you cannot fool yourself or others; in the face of death, you can no longer do that. Jo was also deeply aware of his shortcomings. Perhaps I may even go a step further: Jo Schoonveld was thoroughly reformed, not narrow-minded, but fully reformed. Born and raised at a time when, and I say this somewhat generically, we as believers had few questions and many answers. From the Bible, we could outline lines and principles for church, state, and society for everything. The doctrine seemed more like the mirror of our time than of Paul’s time. Nowadays, people often swing to the other extreme; it is precisely the opposite: many questions and few answers. Questions: how can this be, how can God do this, allow this? Is there a God? Is it all just imagination? We see through a glass, darkly. Yet sometimes we see nothing, only those mysteries. And let’s be honest: it is also folly what the Bible says about a God who holds everything in His hands. A God who comes to us as a baby, a cross that is supposed to be our salvation, a man who conquers death! These things clash with our reasoning, our common sense: all those things that were central in church this past week: the cross and resurrection, Good Friday and Easter. But this is not something new; it was already said in Paul’s days: That gospel: a stumbling block, foolishness. And when you are close to the end of your life, these mysteries, these questions can invade and suffocate a person. Jesus experienced this in Gethsemane.
we see now through a glass, darkly. That is not the last; it’s just the beginning, for the sentence continues: “but then face to face: now I know in part; but then I shall fully understand, as I also have been fully understood.” We have many questions. When it comes down to it, there’s only one answer that lifts us above and moves us beyond intellect: We may trust that God who, in the end, is love. I am known, meaning God knows me, God wants to know me. God accepts me as I am, as I have lived, with all my flaws and shortcomings. God loves me. In that direction, Jo Schoonveld thought, I believe; in that, he found comfort, support, and certainty. His children said: Dad unconditionally accepted us. And that was a reflection of God’s unconditional acceptance of himself in Jesus Christ. That was Jo’s safety net. In his last nights of distress, it was enough for him that Fokje’s hand or one of the children’s held him. The last lines of Psalm 139 read: O God, encompass me entirely and lead me on the way to life. We believe that God’s hands were present in Jo’s life, not just in those last nights but throughout his life. God’s hands that carried him, God’s hands that caught him, hands that brought him home.
Home!
End of mysteries. Amen
Brief from Oom Auke after passing away
April 25, 2000
Dear family,
As I write this, it is Tuesday, April 25, almost two o’clock in the afternoon, so you are now in the church for Jo’s funeral service. Since my thoughts are in the Netherlands, I thought I would write you a little note. Naturally, I wish I could be there, but that is simply not possible.
I am so glad that I had the opportunity to spend a week in the Netherlands in March to see you all, but especially that I could visit Jo and Fokje every day during that week. I truly enjoyed that time; it was a lovely week, and Jo made it so easy for all of us. It was beautiful, and the best part was that he had such peace with the fact that he would not get better and that he was not afraid of death at all. I asked him about it, and his answer was no, he was not afraid at all because he knew where he was going. The afternoon I was there, we had dinner, and when we went to the hospital for the dedication of little Hannah from Alex and Chazia, Jo asked me to read something from an English Bible. I read Romans 8:28 to 39, and we talked about how wonderful it is that nothing can separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. We have not received the memorial card yet, but I heard that you chose a verse from 1 Corinthians 13, which says that we now see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face; how wonderful it is to have that certainty knowing he can now see the Lord. When our Sherry heard that Jo had passed away, she said now he gets to see Uncle Matje, Uncle Klaas, Piet, Uncle Willem, and Grandpa and Grandma. It’s almost hard to comprehend, but it is just how it is. It is so beautiful to know what our Lord said in John 11, “whoever believes in me shall not die.”
This hope must comfort all of our sorrows,
Come fellow travelers, lift your heads high.
For those who wait for the Lord’s salvation,
Mountains become level and seas dry.
Oh salvation beyond measure!
Oh joy that banishes all pain!
There is no more alienation;
And we, we are in the homeland.
Warm regards from your loving brother,
Auke
Several condolence cards and letters
Card from Wim and Truus Groothuis
….
We will remember Uncle John as a strong personality with a great sense of humor, someone I was deeply impressed by as a child. We will pray for you during this difficult time of grieving.
…
Card from Fokko Woltjes
Veendam, April 22, 2000
Dear Schoonveld family,
In the Dagblad Trouw, I read the obituary of my former classmate Jopie Schoonveld, your husband, father, and grandfather. The image of this cheerful and lively classmate is very clear in my mind from the Christian Mulo in Veendam. A few years ago, we had a nice reunion where we met again. I want to express my sincere condolences for this great loss; may your trust in the Lord provide comfort during these challenging days and in the times to come.
Letter from Herman Ekenhorst
Apeldoorn, April 30, 2000
Dear Mrs. Schoonveld and family,
…
I often think back to the years when we would regularly meet on Monteverdilaan and at the Vordensebeek. When I think of him, I see him sitting, often full of stories and jokes, on Sunday mornings at church over coffee. He was the one who often poured the sherry. His down-to-earth nature and optimism remain in my memory.
…
Letter from Teun Modderman
Assen, May 31, 2000
Dear Fokje and family,
Due to illness and hospitalization, I have been away from home for a few weeks. Now that I am cleaning up, I discovered with shock the mourning card regarding Jo’s passing.
I was unaware of his illness.
After Roelie’s passing, we had one more phone conversation, and afterward, I sent some information regarding Roelie’s funeral.
For many years, we had a great deal of shared experiences. These are indelible memories. Jo was a man with great gifts, but he never boasted about them. Someone with his sharp mind faced challenges. Yet, despite his sharp tongue, he had a compassionate heart. It’s unfortunate that due to various circumstances, we spoke less frequently recently. We must continue with our memories in the faith of which the mourning card also speaks. That is and remains our assurance. Fokje, I am learning what it means to be alone now that one’s spouse has passed. You only truly understand it by experiencing it yourself. Therefore, I wish you all the strength now and in the future.
Warm regards,
Teun Modderman