Memorial Day 2025

Speech Commemoration 2025, Mayor Suzanne Otters-Bruijnen

May 4, 2025
Note: the verbatim text is leading

Dear attendees,

How wonderful that you came to the Remembrance of the Dead.
The fact that there are so many of us here says a lot.
We are here together because we want to be in connection with each other,
with the past, with the present and with the future.

Today we commemorate all - civilians and military - who were killed or murdered in the Kingdom of the Netherlands or anywhere else in the world.
Both during World War II and the colonial war in Indonesia, and in war situations and peacekeeping operations thereafter. 

People of all ages.
People with families.
Mothers, fathers, grandparents, children.
So many children consciously experienced the terrors of war.
So many children died because of the violence.
So many children were forced into a role in that war.
As soldiers, or as workers of the occupying forces. 

Last year I met Mr. De Witte.
He has lived in Son en Breugel for more than 50 years.
I may say Jan.
Jan is present tonight.
How nice of you to be here.
Jan grew up in Rotterdam.
There, as a child, he witnessed the horrific bombing of the city.
A few years later, when Jan was 16, he and a large group of other young men were deported to Germany by the Nazis to work for the German war industry.
That was in November 1944.
We were liberated here in the south by then.
In the West, the war was still in full swing and the terrible hunger winter had yet to begin.
Many people died in that last year of the war.
Jan and his family survived.
Later, he wrote down his memories in the booklet "Looking Back on the Years 1939-1945. After our biggest Remember September celebration, where we spent five days celebrating the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Son and Breugel, I visited Jan and he gave me his book.

It is important that we continue to tell the stories of the past and pass them on to future generations.
I would therefore like to draw your attention to the meeting that the library is organizing next Wednesday evening in commemoration of 80 years of liberation.
During this evening Jan will share his sometimes heartbreaking and frightening experiences.

The war forced many children to make adult decisions and/or act in circumstances beyond their control.
They, like today's children, were in the prime of their lives but had to adapt to war.
Often accompanied by extreme stress and danger.
Many of the surviving children of the time still struggle as adults with the effects of their traumatic experiences.

It's important to pass on their stories.
For all those children from back then.
So that we don't forget them.

For the 47 million children of today.
Who are now fleeing war, violence and incidents and hoping for a better future.
And for the children of today who live in freedom.
Who know war from lore.
From grandparents.
From history lessons at school.
Who see the news about wars on TV and social media.
And who, like all of us, hope that war never comes here again.

Children deserve a world where they can dream freely, learn and grow up without the threat of war, violence and hatred.
A better world really begins with ourselves.
Despite all the threats and horrors currently taking place in many parts of the world, over which we as individuals have no influence.
We do have an influence on our own environment and on the way we want to live together.
If we want today's children to have a future, it is important that we continue to pass on.
Pass on that we resolve conflicts without violence, without hatred and without war.
Pass on that it is important that we look out for each other and that everyone counts.

Therefore, let us stay connected with each other, with the past, with the present and with the future, not only on a day like today, but every day. 

For all the children of then
For all the children of now
And for all the children of soon.

Thank you.

Lecture Commemoration 2025, Jesse Engelhart

May 4, 2025
Note: the verbatim text is leading

What do I know about war now?

What do I know about death now?

23 years ago, my mother brought me to earth. 

What do I know about grief now?

How can I write about that?

Write that, I thought. Write that you know but can't imagine.

That you missed what so many people share. And so I write. And I don't know. I don't know, but I feel. I feel my grandmother's grief. Her never cried tears streaming down my cheeks at night. Her never expressed anger that becomes a priceless work of art with me in amazement through scratches on a sheet of paper. Priceless is the language of emotions and emotions are art. My grandmother also made art. Art about flowers and art about butterflies. And in the flowers and in the butterflies was the emotion and the language with which she was not allowed to speak. Because she was not allowed to speak. And she didn't speak. And my mother didn't speak and I didn't speak. Now I speak. Now I speak for my mother and my grandmother and for all the voices that were not allowed to speak, because I am allowed to speak. 

I know a boy from the war. "How are you," he asks and "how are you" I ask. He answers in his language. And I in mine. He answers in his world. Which I will not understand. Only in my heart will I understand what he says. I will not understand, but I will listen. I will not understand, but know. I will not understand, but we ask. "How are you." The question most people forget to ask in the rush of the world, in the rush of work, in the rush of fear. The fear of opening. But how else do you open. We sit and we ask. We stop running and remember that which is really important: brotherhood. And just asking is enough. 

Can I think of all these people in gratitude. Knowing that I will not feel the pain they may have felt. Can I forgive them in love for the best they did and could not do otherwise? Can I let go of the pain, release it, to continue to cherish the memories at the same time. And can I then allow myself to be happy?

Here