My mother, Elsje Neeter, was 26 years old when both her parents were taken away and murdered. The fact that she never spoke badly about the Germans still amazes me. Throughout her later life this turned out to be the best character trait of my mother, never judging other people. She died in July 2013 in a caring institution at the age of 97. For the last year I visited her every day.
My mother didn’t talk much about this huge sadness, but if I asked her about it she always said, ‘What a fine upbringing I had, with wonderful parents’.
When I was in Miami two years ago with my husband, and visited the Holocaust Memorial there, I fell into conversation with an elderly man, a camp survivor, who gave guided tours. When I told him about my granddad and grandmother, he asked whether my mother still lived. Yes, I answered, and he replied: ‘No doubt she reached that age because she still has you’. I loved my mother totally, and I am very glad to be able to do this one last thing for her.
A fine memorial to her parents, the grandparents I never knew.
Carry le Clercq