In memory of Jules E Scheffer.
When we are children we do not know what love actually is. We know that we love our parents and love any one related to us but the physical emotion behind it we do not fully understand.
When I was seven years old I was in Florida visiting my nana for Easter break and I remember her asking my mother and I permission if we could have a guess come for dinner one night. The doorbell rang and this average height Dutch man around eighty-year-old walks in to the door. He had rose cheeks like every child wants Santa Clause to have. Most importantly he walked in the door and made eye contact with my nana. Their eyes met together and even as a child I could realize that this was not just another friend coming in the door.
As time went on he showed up more often. Soon he started staying with my nana and he moved in to her second house next door to mine in NY. After about six months I couldn’t get enough of this man. He became the grandfather that I never truly had. He was my best friend during my elementary years without a doubt. After a few months when I was eight years old I remember him coming to ask me and my mom if it was okay if he asked for my nanas hand in marriage. Of course I did not have much say in the matter however, he seemed to let me think I did. That following spring to the best of my knowledge we were in Florida again for a school break and we walked my nana down the aisle.
Although it was a small room and only about ten people attended the ceremony, I was still extremely excited to be the flower girl walking just before my nana set foot in the room. I do not remember the ceremony all that much however, after they said their vows and kissed I was asked to perform something on stage. When I was younger I was not a very good dancer, although everyone still sat up and cheered for me as I took my final bow.
Over the course of the next few years I remember him and my nana spending more time up north then down south. As a child I use to think it was because they wanted to see me. As an adult I know it was because they wanted to spend time with me.
During their time he painted a lot, he was an excellent artist. Mostly producing water color or pastel paintings of landscapes and animals for the WWF. However, he also painted place we all traveled to over the years. However, the Christmas prior to him getting sick I remember him sending me a box. At this point my nana and mom were not letting me see him anymore thinking it would be too much for an eleven almost twelve-year-old to handle. Anyways that year my birthday came early. He painted me a pastel paining of the beach on an oval canvas. I remember be ecstatic opening the present. Each Christmas/birthday my mom or nana would receive a painting however; this was my first one.
A few weeks later I got off the bus and walked through my back door to find my mom with the phone in her hand. We all knew the time was coming. Each day I would ask how he was doing, if I could call him or if we could go to Florida to say our last goodbye. At this point we knew. However, the shock of hearing it is completely different.
