For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Mark de Wolde; I am Henry’s eldest son.
Henry was born Hendrik de Wolde in Zwartemeer, Nederlands. His mother called him Henk, but it was his wife and friends called him Henry, his children called him Dad and his Grandchildren called him Opa or Grandpa. My Aunt Marion called him Henri and on occasion, out of jest, my Mother called him Harry. I think this was mostly in retaliation because my Father loved to call her Willy.
My Father Henry wore many occupational related hats; he has been a president, a treasurer, an elder, a deacon, a director on many boards, a manager of a country western singer and a general manager of a genetics company. But, if you asked him, he would tell you that he preferred being “his own boss”. He accomplished this by:
Founding his own contracting business “Henry’s Carpentry Services”, where his skills as a wood worker shone-through in his projects. He utilized those skills right up until this fall, by restoring old mahogany boats. At the wake yesterday, someone said to me, `God must have an awful lot of renovations to do in Heaven, he already has one carpenter, and now he has a called a second one home.`
One day he approached us boys, and gave us a choice. He said we could either have an in ground pool or move to a farm. My brothers and I gathered around and made the logical decision that a pool would always be attainable, but moving to a farm might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I think he had already made the decision, but he wanted his family to perceive the choice. He started a purebred swine farm called “Bra-Ma-Rod Farms”, which he named after his three sons, Brad, Mark & Rod. And because he was always inclusive, he named our fifth wheel truck after my sister, “Becky Lynn”. Farming was his passion and he wanted this to be the place to raise his children. He got that wish.
Eventually, he and Mom moved here to Picton and purchased a trailer park called “Shelter Valley”. My Dad renewed the park, and gave it class by peaking the roofs, adding car ports and paving the driveways. It was a time of rebirth for my Father, and maybe some of the happiest, and least stressful days of his life.
It was through these personal ventures that my Father received the most satisfaction.
My Dad was not the “touchy-feely” type, and he rarely said "I love you", although that changed a bit in the last few years. He wasn’t one to seek social interaction, but could definitely hold his own, and in most cases lead a conversation or an argument. He had no problem voicing his opinion on a subject matter that he was passionate about, especially if that subject included religion, farming, lifestyle or family. I can remember many late nights listening to him, along with my Grandfather and Uncle Bill get into heated debates. Thank goodness Uncle Bill was there to mediate. (pause) He did have some interesting gestures during his conversations, including crossing his arms which implied certain seriousness. Or when he would hold his chin in his thumb with his index finger curled around his lips. This usually indicated deep thought about his next interjection. He always had his fingernail on his index finger long for his infamous nose scratch; a scratch that even continued, like a reflex, when both his mind and body were incapacitated. (pause) I suppose the one mode of communication that probably annoyed us the most, was the infamous letter. When a subject matter required imperative attention, Dad would spawn a pen or a keyboard to type out his concerns and criticisms on paper. Seeing one of these letters arrive in our inbox was a sure sign that Dad was displeased with something, and by writing a letter, he had your full attention. I was always bothered by this, because I felt that if he had something that important to say to me, why wouldn't he just come and talk to me about it. My guess would be that it was his way of assuring finality, because this way, there was no way, I could argue back; pretty smart on his part.
As a matter of fact, my father and I used to fight quite a bit over differences (mostly during my teenage years and early twenties), but what I’ve come to realize is that these battles were related more to our similarities than our differences.
Henry faced many trials and tribulations, but God was there EVERY step of the way...
His own father passed away when he was only 15, and then he was taken away from his direct family, and his ailing Mother, in Alberta. But God was with him as he was translocated to his new family, the Stoffers here in Ontario. Ome Albert and Tante Anna treated Dad like their own son, while their kids, accepted him as a brother.
In 1986, he lost his farm to a devastating fire that caused the death of nearly 600 animals. I can still remember my brother Rod running up the driveway to the house yelling, “The barns are on fire!” My Dad and I whisked off as fast as we could back down the long driveway, entering the lower level of the large bank barn. With desperate panic, we opened as many pen doors as possible and guided as many pigs as possible out the doors. But again, God was with us, as a strange voice from outside the barn yelled, “the floor is caving in”. My Dad and I caught eyes, and immediately dashed for the exit, and no sooner did we get out the door when the whole building collapsed. The support given to our family in the rebuilding process was unbelievable, but the struggle with the insurance company was insurmountable.
A few years after the fire, the loss of business, the costs to rebuild and the abstinence of the insurance company took their toll. I remember being in Saskatchewan, on our way to a de Wolde family reunion. We were walking down the street, my brothers and I a few paces ahead of my parents. I looked back, and I saw my Dad crying for the first time. I didn’t know why, but when we got back to Ontario, our farm was facing foreclosure. One more time, God brought a special man, a Christian man, who single handily bought out the bank and helped us retain our family farm.
My Mom and Dad always prayed that they would keep the farm to raise their family. Sometimes you have to be careful what you ask for, because God answers prayers. In 1999, after their kids were raised, we lost the farm; God kept his end of the bargain. God sustained my Father by presenting this grade nine graduate the General Manager position at a genetics company; who would have thought. Even though this was a great opportunity, my Father yearned to be his own boss again. An unexpected inheritance provided my mother and him the opportunity to spread their wings once again. Dad quit his job and purchased Shelter Valley here in Picton. It was during these years the two of them embarked on another passion, that of helping others. They got involved with the Triangle of Hope Ministries and embarked on a 2 year long commitment, helping victims of Hurricane Katrina in Bogalusa, Louisiana.
A few years ago, Dad was confronted with a chronic illness: polyarteritis nodosa, which had the potential of causing failure to his kidneys. But that was just preparatory for the sinister cancer that invaded his body late this summer. I remember speaking with my Dad a few weeks ago as he struggled against a respirator attached to his face in the ICU. I reminded him of all the struggles he faced over the years, and all the times that God was faithful. I said to him, “Dad, you’ve been so strong in the past, you’ve been faithful to God and He has been faithful to you. This is last time God is going to ask you to endure.” (pause) Endure he did - My Dad was very brave during his bout with Cancer, and he remained steadfast in his faith despite having his two most prominent attributes stolen from him: his strength of body and strength of mind.
James 1 verse 12 says, “Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial, for it is he who will inherit the Kingdom of Heaven.”
My Dad was an extremely hard worker with a great sense of humour. Wooden head, wooden shoes, wouldn’t listen. Although you might get the impression that he could be stubborn, judgemental or critical, he was quite the opposite: he was always accepting, inclusive and forgiving – he treated everyone equally and had no prejudices.
If there were three things my Dad would have wanted you to know, it would be this:
1. He was an unfettering, faithful servant to Jesus Christ.
2. He was a loving and devoted husband to his wife, and
3. Although he didn’t have template for fatherhood, I do. And I suspect that my brothers, my sister and our partners do as well.
I want to take a moment to thank those people who have travelled from afar to visit with my Dad and/or to be present for his funeral. If I miss anyone, please accept my apologies.
Rob Taylor, a friend of my brother Rod, who flew all the way from Seattle Washington to pay his respects.
My Dad’s sisters Hennie & Helen, who visited from Alberta with their husbands Willem and Henk, along with Helen’s sons Henry and Harvey.
My Dad’s brother Morris and his wife Tena who drove all the way from Alberta on Saturday. When he arrived at the door of my Mom`s house, I told him that I was sorry for the loss of his brother, and he replied `he was my favourite.`
And, my Dad’s brother Herman and his wife Carol, with whom my Dad was very excited to renew his friendship with over the last 10 years. They visited from Alberta to spend time with Dad, and then returned for this special occasion to see him off to his Saviour. (pause)
I want to thank my brother Rod, his wife Shari and their daughters Hailey, Keira and Olivia for their love and support. Outside of my Mother, no one knew my Dad better than Rod and I know that losing Dad will be very difficult for him.
I want to thank my brother Brad and his partner Laura, for their love and affection shown to Dad and Mom. Brad and Dad had a shared love for fishing, and given Brad`s personable nature, I suspect they shared many intimate moments on the water.
I want to thank my sister Becky and her daughters Alyssa, Brooke and Trinity for their support and commitment to Dad, but especially to Mom during these last few weeks. Always Daddy`s-little-girl, all three of Becky`s kids became Daddy`s-little-girls.
I want to thank all of our close friends and family who were able to support us here today.
But mostly, I want to thank my wife Jessica, whose love has been my sustenance over the last 3 months, and my boys Owen and Benjamin who have blessed ME with the responsibility of Fatherhood.
I want to take a moment to address my Mother, Wilma. Mom – you have been inspirational – a rock – a tireless supporter at Dad’s side throughout his whole life, but especially in his final months. I always thought my strength came from the de Wolde side of the family, but I now realize for everything you have experienced in your life, and the way you have handled yourself and your husband in these trying months, it is you, who gives me strength. I love you Mom.
And lastly, I want to address my Father. Dad – you did it. You beat every challenge that came your way. You succeeded in every aspect of your life, and succeeded in your salvation through your death. You are in a better place, and I look forward to seeing you again. I love you Dad.
