Eulogy

On October 16, 1943, near Haulerwijk, Netherlands, Iepkje Rook was born to Ruud and Boukje Bergsma. In 1951, like many Dutch families at the time, they immigrated to Canada, settling in the lovely Ottawa Valley where in grade school, her name was anglicized to Elizabeth.


In the Valley, the Bergsma family farmed. Mom had many stories about life on the farm, learning the virtues of cleanliness and hard work, and building lifelong relationships with her sisters and brothers.


One of Mom’s last and most frequent memories was of the oatmeal porridge she ate regularly during her childhood.


Sometime in the '60s, through family and the church, Mom met Harm Rook. In 1967, they married, eventually building a beef and then a dairy farm along the Snake River.


Mom and Dad had three gigantic children; my brothers David & Allan and I. David is without a doubt one of the largest people you will ever meet. The food on the farm was excellent.


Growing up on the farm, I took for granted the freedom our parents gave us. They allowed us to explore far and wide—climbing trees, wandering the fields, exploring the river and the swamp. Of course, we were not really on our own. Mom could watch over us from the house. She wanted her kids to be independent while ensuring we were safe.


One of my first memories is getting stuck in a tree, hanging upside down with my foot stuck in the crook, and then having Mom climb up and rescue me.


Mom had a green thumb. She always surrounded herself with plants and cuttings. Outside, there were huge flower beds and a garden. Allan once joked that taking care of the flower beds was a full-time job in and of itself.


Mom also had high standards for us. She expected us to work hard on our homework. If we needed assistance, she was endlessly patient with us, spending her time helping us through the difficult parts.


We stayed connected with our parents' extended families throughout our lives. I have many memories of visiting our uncles, aunts, and cousins. Over 40 cousins in all. Weekly visits to the locals. Annual vacations to those more distant. These bonds still last. I still meet with some cousins when I can.


Mom loved coffee. It was one of the last few treats she would request, even if she only had a sip or two.


Of course, coffee went along with cookies, squares and visitors. Our home was always open to visitors. Literally. The door was never locked.


My cousin Melissa shared a story of a time she and her sister Natalie stopped by for a visit. My parents were not there, but the door was unlocked. The dogs greeted them warmly. Melissa and Nat hung out for a while, found the grocery list, and added a few items to it. They said goodbye to the dogs and then left, hoping my parents would have a good laugh at their mystery times on the shopping list.


The church was an important part of mom’s life, of our lives. Not only for guidance, not just because she was a devout Christian, but because she loved the people in the church. She was a leader in the Bible Study Coffee club. She was part of the youth committee. She loved to sing and attended choir for years.


Mom also enjoyed traveling. She and Dad traveled many times across Canada alone and with relatives. One of the things we’ve lost in the transition from physical to digital are photo books. Mom made many books of their trips. I love paging through them.


I remember our trip to Zimbabwe. In 2001 David volunteered there for a year, so Mom suggested we visit. We flew the distance and spent a few weeks with him. It was a strange and beautiful experience. Victoria Falls was amazing. The poverty was heartbreaking. Our experiences at the school in Mutoko where David taught changed my life. It showed me how special Canada and the Ottawa Valley are, and how much my parents had done to help us through life.


There is also the Halloween story. One Halloween, Mom and a friend (Joanne Wato) dressed up in elaborate costumes. You could not tell who they were. They drove around to various houses, knocked, and offered, rather than accepted treats. The treats were little bottles of mints and tic-tacs that were labeled “Spanish Fly” and “Viagra.” People pursued them, trying to determine who they were. They had to park their car far away from the houses they were visited to further hide their identities. It was months before they were found out.


I remember how much Mom loved to play games. As kids, we spent many evenings playing games with family and friends. The earlier games were usually rummy, checkers, trouble, bingo... the list went on. I think in the '80s, Uno was added to the list. Judging by how ratty our UNO deck is, it may still be an original.


UNO became the major family game. Even as her memory declined Mom remained a card shark at UNO and frequently won. She was a magnet for being dealt +4’s. She was always trying to push the rules and to lay a +2 on a regular 2.


It was heartbreaking to watch her decline. I felt helpless through much of it.


I have profound respect for Dad for the patience and care he provided to her for years. Thank you Dad.


After her stroke, Mom needed a walker, which she hated. When you watched her try to walk, she obviously needed it. Yet if you turned your back on her, the walker would vanish. You would find it in the strangest of places. How on earth did it get across the house to the far bedroom? She always had that fiery independent spark and didn’t want help.


In some ways, her dementia was a blessing. She could sit quietly, enjoy the moment, and appreciate the view from her chair, never fretting for the future. Yet, when you walked into the room, her face would light up, and she would greet you with a warm “Hello, hello, hello!”


After spending these times with my parents, Kelly and I have engaged in many discussions about our future and the legacy we hope to leave behind. In navigating life's uncertainties, I find solace in the serenity prayer.


God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.


As I reflect on my mother's life, I am inspired by her unwavering dedication and love. When my time comes, I hope to live up to her example—leaving this life with a steadfast faith in Jesus, having poured my heart into endeavors I cherish and surrounded by enduring bonds of friendship and family cultivated over decades.





Thank you.