In Remembrance: A Birthday Tribute to My Mother
On what would have been her 87th birthday, I remember a life shaped by war, sustained by resilience, and defined by boundless love.
Today would have been my mother’s 87th birthday—a quiet milestone that brings her absence into sharper focus since her passing in May. On this day, I want to honor the arc of her extraordinary life. She was a steady source of love, strength, and generosity, shaped by the trauma of growing up in wartime Holland and the dislocation of immigration to Canada, before finally putting down roots in West Lafayette, Indiana. From those early hardships emerged a woman of uncommon resilience—a beloved teacher, loyal friend, and devoted mother who moved through the world with warmth, intelligence, and quiet tenacity. She gave freely: her time, her care, and a bottomless well of kindness that touched family, friends, and strangers alike.
In the wake of her cancer diagnosis, I soon found myself on my own medical journey. We became reluctant companions in illness—mother and daughter navigating parallel paths through a terrain neither of us chose. I felt her procedures and setbacks more acutely than my own. And while her death was a profound loss, I was met by an unexpected sense of relief: my greatest fear—that I might die before her—had not come to pass. I had been carrying that fear not for myself, but for her. The thought of her enduring the grief of losing a daughter felt unbearable. In the end, she was spared that pain.
Her passing, however, reawakened long-standing fractures in our family, rooted in the pain of a difficult divorce and layers of complicated history. These past eight months—truthfully, much of my life—have been spent trying to make sense of those wounds, seeking peace in a tangle of sorrow, memory, and hope. In the midst of these challenges, I hold onto the hope that love and understanding will ultimately prevail, guiding us toward a place of healing and unity.
What follows is an excerpt from the remarks I prepared for her funeral.
I know mom is smiling on us all today, and is absolutely thrilled that so many of her friends and family are here to remember her.
David Ferguson has captured what I feel about losing mom: “Our mothers were our first firmament, literally, our first homes, the universe from whose substance we were formed. It feels raw and fundamental, a pain that reaches all the way down to your ligaments and bones.”
Four years ago, the shocking diagnosis of Mom's late-stage pancreatic cancer reverberated through my entire being, reaching down to my ligaments and bones. Like many of you, I remain profoundly grateful for the precious time I spent with her in the intervening years.
I extend heartfelt gratitude to Courtenay and her family for the unwavering love and care they bestowed upon Mom. Tim, you stand out as a pillar of support, patiently and lovingly caring for your mother-in-law and being her "chemo buddy." I also want to thank Diane Wells for your faithful, loving, and patient care.
While everyone here is more familiar with my mom’s life since moving to West Lafayette and becoming a beloved teacher, cherished friend and member of the congregation here at St. Johns, there is a lesser known part of her earlier life, which deeply shaped who she was.
As a young girl, she endured the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands during World War II. Throughout our upbringing, we heard fragments of those experiences. Truthfully, she mostly, and understandably, attempted to suppress many of those memories. However, with age, and especially since her diagnosis, she endeavored to process some of those foundational experiences. She shared with her children and grandchildren about:
• Sheltering a Jewish family beneath the floor of her apartment, where, despite the challenges of a crying baby, the family managed to remain undiscovered and survive the war—a stark contrast to the unfortunate fate of 75% of Holland's Jewish population.
• Witnessing an allied pilot parachuting into the family's backyard, subsequently hiding, along with another pilot, under the coal in the family's shed, before safely reaching England through the resistance network.
• Finding solace under a table with her younger brother, Peter, during bombing raids, where they clung to each other tightly in an attempt to provide comfort and drown out the deafening noise.
• Recounting the unforgettable experience of consuming her first whole banana, peel and all, when Allied airplanes dropped food during the harrowing "hunger winter" of 1944/45.
Additionally, there are numerous accounts of family members bravely venturing into the countryside in search of food. The family shared meals of "mystery stew," where no one dared to inquire about the ingredients. Mom and her siblings would plead with their mother during air raids to consume the last of the family's chocolate, stored safely in a drawer, in hopes of "dying happy with chocolate in our stomachs." However, my grandmother staunchly refused to entertain the idea!
And so, through perseverance, tenacity, and, at times, sheer luck, my mom and her family emerged as outliers who defied the odds and survived the war. Mom passed away the day before the anniversary of Dutch Liberation Day, a time she described as joyful. However, with their home and business ravaged by the war and her father's subsequent death, her mother—now a widow with four children—remarried. They decided to emigrate to Canada in 1952.
In a display of her own unique resistance, my mother, driven by a desire to stay in the Netherlands, enlisted the help of her friend, Evelyn. They embarked on a daring escape, jumping on their bikes with the aim of making it to Italy before the ship sailed. Though they managed to cover some ground, Interpol eventually caught up with them in France. In the end, they were apprehended in time to join the rest of the family on the boat to Canada.
Mom faced initial challenges integrating into Toronto, particularly as she grappled with learning English, her fourth language. Despite her strong belief in the transformative power of education, her stepfather pressured her to abandon school and get a job to contribute to the household. Undeterred, she and her elder sister, Thea, defiantly made plans to leave home and live together. Tragically, Thea's sudden death sent the entire family into a tailspin, prompting the family to return to Holland. However, Mom charted a different course. Determined to pursue her education, she arranged to stay in Toronto with a friend's family.
Shortly thereafter, in true Mom fashion, she forged close friendships at her high school and earned the title of First Runner-up in the Miss Harbord Collegiate Pageant, akin to being crowned Homecoming queen. Continuing her academic journey, she enrolled at the University of Toronto with a passion for studying archaeology. However, uncertain of its practicality for a livelihood, she pivoted to languages, a domain she effortlessly mastered given her polyglot upbringing. The only thing greater than her knowledge of languages was her pure love for her students, as many of you here today will attest.
Mom found a genuine sense of belonging and community here at St. John’s. I won't delve into the many roles she played, as you are already well acquainted with them. I'll simply share that some of my earliest memories involve her at St. John's. On Saturdays, I had the privilege of accompanying Mom to work at the St. John’s Food Pantry and Clothes Closet—a connection that undoubtedly influenced my later career choices.
As a daughter, mother, sister, and dear friend to many, Mom embodied support, love, care, outgoingness, vivacity, and kindness. She infused joy and love into the lives of many. Quite literally, she would give the clothes off her back for her children, students, friends, and the community. Despite an early life marked by unimaginable hardship, she faced adversity once more during her divorce from Dad. This, however, became another testament not only to her resilient character but also to the rich tapestry of support woven with loved ones from this community.
I'd like to share with you today one of the profound lessons from her life—a lesson drawn from her experiences during the war, the challenges she faced in Canada, her time in West Lafayette, and her own family life. It's a lesson I know Mom would want us to reflect on: that the path we should aspire to walk in life is one of compassion and forgiveness. Today, as I celebrate my mom's spirit and memory, I am brimming with love, compassion, and forgiveness.
I extend my heartfelt gratitude to each of you for your deep love and care for Kaye Kleine-Ahlbrandt. In the end, love and care are the most important gifts we can offer each other. I am certain that the love, presence, and care each of you provided to my mother were fundamental to her long and rich life.
And a last heartfelt invitation: This is not a farewell. As many of you are aware, my mom always believed that, one day, she would be reunited with her dear sister, brother, mother, and other beloved family members and friends who preceded her in death. I am confident that she is now at peace, surrounded by love. It is now our turn to embrace love wholeheartedly and to sow kindness wherever we go.
Much love, Stephanie
I'm also including a tribute written by my son for the funeral. Their beautiful relationship and a planned trip to the Netherlands, which, unfortunately, never came to fruition, bear significant meaning. (Adrian undertook the journey solo).
Thank you everyone for being here and celebrating the life of my grandmother. My name is Adrian Flynn and I am the oldest of Kaye’s grandchildren.
I always viewed the life of my grandmother as extraordinary. As a child, I grew up around the world and spent several of my formative years in Beijing where my Mom raised me. During this time, staying in touch with family was challenging, and making the long trip out to see us was a tall order for many. I’ll never forget though, that Grandma Kaye, with her sister-in-law Shirley in tow, came all the way out to spend time with us in China in 2010. We had a great time, visiting all the cultural and historical sites, including the Great Wall and the Forbidden City, and Grandma Kaye met all my friends, who loved her.
Grandma Kaye, in all her adventurousness and love, was the only member of our family who came out to visit us in Beijing.
As I grew older, I understood and admired even more deeply the path that Kaye took, as she shared stories of her life during World War II and how she made her way to North America.
This past summer, I went to Holland to see for myself some of these spots so special and formative for Kaye. I stayed with her childhood best friend, Ans, whose love for Kaye and graciousness knows no bounds.
I visited the house in which my grandmother lived in the Hague during the war, where they went to elementary school, where they played as children, and where they spent time at the sea.
I went to Vlaardingen to see where my great grandparents lived, where Kaye’s grandfather operated a pharmacy which only closed in the last few years, and where they are buried. Being at the gravesite of my great-great grandparents, Pieter and Neeltje Walrave, was an incredibly moving experience. I am immensely proud of my Dutch heritage through Grandma Kaye.
There is a lot of love in this history, but also a lot of pain and loss. Kaye loved deeply and lost many beloved friends and family members along her journey. Yet, here in West Lafayette I believe she found a lasting home and loving community. I cannot express enough gratitude for the role she played in my life, as well as the roles you all played in hers. May she rest in loving peace.
Thank you.
Resources
Facing grief is an inevitable part of life’s journey. Below you’ll find a diverse range of resources. As everyone’s grief journey is unique, please review summaries and feedback thoughtfully before making any choices. Also, please note that this list is hardly exhaustive. Your input on additional suggestions is greatly appreciated.
(And if delving into a book feels overwhelming due to the intensity of your grief, I suggest exploring Anderson Cooper’s podcast, “All There Is.” It offers some of the most insightful and compassionate content on grief that I've come across. Here’s the episode with Stephen Colbert.
Many have also found solace in this beautiful piece by Colorado’s Poet Laureate, Andrea Gibson: Love Letter From The Afterlife)
BOOKS:
Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief by David Kessler
Being Mortal by Atul Gawande
A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis
The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion
Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi
Notes on Grief by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichichie
When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times by Pema Chodron
Heartwood: The Art of living With the End in Mind by Barbara Becker
Resilient Grieving, How to Find Your Way Through a Devastating Loss (Second Edition) by Lucy Hone
Lost & Found by Kathryn Schulz
It's OK That You're Not OK: Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn't Understand by Megan Devine
The Art of Grieving by Corinne Laan
Bearing the Unbearable: Love, Loss, and the Heartbreaking Path of Grief by Joanne Cacciatore
Different After You: Rediscovering Yourself and Healing After Grief or Trauma by Michele Neff Hernandez
Opening to Grief: Finding your way from Loss to Peace by Claire B. Willis
The Other Side of Sadness: What the New Science of Bereavement Tells Us About Life After Loss by George A. Bonanno
The First Hundred Days of Healing: A Compassionate Buddhist Journal for Navigating Loss and Grief by Cristo López
Grief Day By Day: Simple Practices and Daily Guidance for Living with Loss by Jan Warner
Dead People Suck: A Guide for Survivors of the Newly Departed, by Laurie Kilmartin
(This list doesn’t include books of poetry or books specifically about preparing for our own death and/or supporting others in their end-of-life journey. Those are different lists)
And just in case after all of that you need a little comic relief:
Stephanie, what an incredible woman. I appreciated learning about your mother’s arduous and love-filled journey. Your values and your life’s mission to help others are part of your mother’s legacy. Thank you for sharing your eulogy and Adrian‘s message. I am sorry for your loss and send condolences to you and your extended family. Your mother was an incredible woman, like her daughter. You are an inspiration to me, and I send you all of my love.
What a beautiful tribute to your mother. Wonderful to read the remarks you and Adrian delivered at her funeral and to scroll through the photos. I now have a much better sense of where you get your remarkable determination, fortitude, and glorious smile. What's bred in the bone .... May her memory be for a blessing to all who loved her.