Page 1 of Who We Think We Are

Jake, Kate’s second husband, just left with the girls for the airport—Paige is returning to Montreal for her PhD, and Kelli is starting university in Toronto. It’s a gorgeous summer day, and Jake is going golfing after he drops the girls off.

“ Enough!” Kate shouts at the empty dining room.

“I’m feeling nostalgic over a freaking table!

” She’d planned to start going through the boxes of GG’s Holocaust letters today but now realizes that’s a terrible idea.

I don’t have to be alone. Those letters have waited eighty years; they can wait a little longer.

“ I’m going to see Grandad and Oma (Grandma)!”

Kate runs upstairs, quickly changes, and pulls her hair into a ponytail. Before she leaves, she snips roses from GG’s garden.

As Oma always loves to say, “Vancouver is glorious today.” As Kate drives to Grandad and Oma’s nursing home, she sees people on the beach, sailboats out in English Bay, and the mountains where she and her best friend and cousin, Suze, love to hike, a passion she got from Oma.

For some reason, she thought staying inside would be a good idea, and going through the letters would somehow help her deal with her empty nest. I hate that expression!

She stops by a Dutch delicatessen and picks up lunch and Oma’s favorite treats.

I hope Oma’s not worse. What started as a bit of memory loss here and there has escalated to full-blown dementia. When Kate pulls into the parking spot at the nursing home, she takes a deep breath, reminding herself to be cheerful.

Inside their small apartment, Grandad pushes himself out of his easy chair to hug her. He’s shrinking. I’m almost as tall as he is now. Kate leans over Oma in her wheelchair and hugs her gently.

“Your hair looks pretty, Oma.”

“Isn’t she lovely?” Grandad asks. “To what do we owe this pleasure, Katie, dear?”

Before Kate can answer, Oma asks, “Did you bring me chocolate?”

“I sure did, Oma. I brought all your favorites.” Kate puts the roses under Oma’s nose so she can sniff them.

“Mmmm. Milk chocolate or dark?”

“Dark chocolate, of course.” Kate puts the roses in a vase, pulls a tablecloth from the dresser, and puts both on the small teak dining table. With Oma, you cannot eat without a tablecloth.

Kate wheels Oma to the table. “I’ll make you a sandwich. Grandad, you’re OK to make your own?”

“Yes, dear. Stop treating me like I’m an old person!” Grandad laughs. He runs a comb through his thinning white hair and eases himself into a chair.

“You are an old person, Grandad. You’re ninety-five!” Kate is glad she came here rather than staying in the house alone. When their sandwiches are made, Kate asks, “Oma, will you please tell me how you and Grandad met?” It’s Oma’s favorite story.

“I’m too tired, Katie, popje (poppet),” Oma says, which is code for ‘I don’t remember.’ “Les, you tell her the story.”

Grandad tells the story the same way every time to help Oma remember.

“I was a Canadian pilot in World War II. I had flown over Holland on bombing missions to Germany many times. But on this day, May 10, 1944, my plane was hit by flak. I crash-landed in a field in eastern Holland. When I hit the ground, I thought I was a goner, and then I blacked out.”

“That’s how he crashed into my life,” says Oma, her mouth full of sandwich.

“I came to when some teenagers were pulling me out of the cockpit, yelling in rapid-fire Dutch.

The two taller boys got under each of my arms, and they half carried me, and I half hobbled to a nearby farmhouse.

They brought me inside and laid me on a bed, and one of the teenagers brought me a glass of water.

Then I knew it was the best day of my life.

“I looked up into Oma’s bright blue eyes. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”

“You were smitten,” says Oma, taking another bite of her sandwich.

“I sure was, darling. Over the next few weeks, as I healed, we fell in love. I spoke a little Dutch because my family had lived in Holland before the war, and she spoke a little English.”

“They taught us English in the resistance,” adds Oma.

“We were able to cobble together enough words in each language to talk to each other. After D-Day, when I was strong enough to travel, Oma’s family connected me with people in the resistance who helped me get to France.”

“He promised me he would come back to me after the war, and he did,” says Oma, finishing her sandwich.

“Yes, I certainly did. I wasn’t going to leave the love of my life to someone else, was I? Oma was alone at the house with her two younger brothers and couldn’t leave. Her parents were working in The Hague. We got married so I could stay with her. Then, later, I brought my bride to Canada.”

“Where we lived happily ever after,” says Oma. “Katie, popje, did you bring me chocolate?”

Kate gives Oma a piece of chocolate, and Oma looks like she is in heaven as she closes her eyes and lets it dissolve in her mouth. “Mmmmmm! Now licorice, then more chocolate.”

With her mouth full of chewy black licorice, Oma says, “When I was young, I got treats for winning races.”

“What races, Oma?”

“Running, jumping, gymnastics, marching. In the summer, we swam and camped, and in winter, we skated and skied.”

“I didn’t know you did all those things,” says Kate, intrigued.

“Oh, ja. I liked to win because I would get chocolate or candy. And I would get a badge.”

“A badge?”

“Ja, to sew on my uniform. We had to learn to sew, too.”

“A uniform? For what? Did they have Girl Scouts in Holland?”

“Would you like to play canasta, darling?” Grandad asks suddenly, his voice wavering.

Kate looks at Grandad. That’s weird. Oma hasn’t played cards for a couple of years.

“Stop interrupting, Les. I’m telling Katie about when I was in the Hitler Youth.”

“What did you say, Oma?”

“I said, I liked to beat other kids when I was in the Hitler Youth. I was such a good athlete that I went to Germany for a Hitler Youth competition one time.

“At first, it was fun. Like Scouts but for Nazis. But it wasn’t so fun in the end.”

Kate looks at Grandad again. His face has gone white, jaw tight, eyes shut. So, it’s true .

“Oh, Katie, popje. How nice to see you! Did you bring me chocolate?” Oma is gone, having slipped back into her dementia.

Kate’s heart is in her throat. “I sure did. Here’s a piece.” Hands shaking, Kate places the chocolate in Oma’s open mouth.

“You knew?” Kate asks Grandad.

Grandad nods as Oma says, “Did you bring licorice too?”

“What are you talking about? Why are you two so serious?” asks Oma, raising her voice. “Talk to me. How are the girls?”

“Leave it for now, Katie. I’ll tell you everything later,” says Grandad.

“Tell Katie what later? What is going on?”

“Nothing, dear. Katie was just asking me about being a pilot.”

“Well, forget that, and tell me how your girls are doing. Is Kelli in school yet?”

“The girls are doing great, Oma. Paige is working on her PhD, and Kelli is just starting university in Toronto.”

“How can I be a grandmother of two girls at university?!”

“You’re a grandmother to a forty-eight-year-old woman, Oma. And my two daughters are your great-granddaughters.”

“Who?” asks Oma.

“Paige and Kelli.”

“Oh, ja, I know that. How are they doing?”

“They’re doing really well, Oma.”

“That’s wonderful, dear. I need to sleep now. Thanks for coming!”

Despite her inner turmoil, Kate smiles a little at Oma’s abrupt dismissal.

This is how Oma says goodbye now. She tilts the back of Oma’s wheelchair, puts a pillow behind her head, and kisses her on the forehead.

Grandad links his arm through Kate’s and walks with her to the entrance of the building.

“What else is there to know, Grandad?” Kate asks as they pass the quilts, paintings, and woodwork the residents have created.

“Oma was in the Hitler Youth in the war with her cousin, Jaap,” Grandad explains.

“For the younger kids, the Hitler Youth was like Scouts with activities, but they were also brainwashed with Nazi propaganda. As the children got older, the girls were trained to be good wives and mothers, and the boys were trained to be soldiers.”

He sits down in the lobby and motions for Kate to do the same.

“Oma’s parents were members of the Dutch Nazi Party before the war.

When I left Great Britain and returned to Holland after the war, they had been arrested for being Nazi Collaborators.

Jaap and Oma’s parents were in a prison camp and Oma was under house arrest because someone had to care for her younger brothers.

She couldn’t leave until her house arrest was over and her mother came home.

We got married then so I could stay with her.

” Grandad’s cheeks are now red, and he is looking at the floor.

“Is there anything else?” Kate swallows and braces herself.

Grandad’s voice shakes, “I told Oma that the war forced people to make hard decisions. She’d learned her lesson and was in the resistance for the last few years of the war.

But I didn’t want to tell my family. They hadn’t lived through the Nazi occupation and wouldn’t understand.

I wanted them to love her. I hate myself for making her keep it secret all these years.

” Grandad is crying when he looks into Kate’s eyes.

“That’s all, Katie. Once we decided to keep it a secret, Oma and I never talked about it again. I’ve been a horrible husband.”

“No, you haven’t.” Kate takes his hand. “You would do anything for Oma. I need to go now, but I’ll come back soon. I love you,” she says, giving Grandad a hug.

“I love you too, Katie. Drive carefully.” Kate watches as Grandad shuffles down the hall, still tall but shoulders drooped.

Kate walks to her car and suddenly vomits next to a brilliant blue hydrangea. She laughs bitterly, remembering when she was sixteen, and GG said, “Aren’t the hydrangeas gorgeous at this time of year?”

Driving home, Kate shouts at the empty car, “That did not just happen! How could they never have talked about it again?”

Oma was a Nazi. What the hell? Do I really know her? What does this say about me? Who am I? I don’t know what to think.

“Oh my God, Suze! Oh my God, our nonprofit!” She stops to be sick again behind a gas station.