If he had known that an article in the newspaper would be devoted to him after his death, Rikus Sunderman would not have had to. Just like with that ribbon back then.
Rikus had read the story, shrugged his shoulders, and then probably went on to do a job for someone else somewhere. Secretly, deep down, he would be proud of it. And would he have said to his wife: ‘It’s actually beautiful, isn’t it, Willy’?
Rikus was a man of few words. He had always been that way and the fact that he heard two years before his death that he had prostate cancer with metastases to the ribs did not change much. He accepted it as it was. It was no different. He resigned himself to his fate. Other people had different problems.
Peace
When they told him from the hospital that the chemotherapy no longer had any effect, he sat down with his Willy. “We always talk about what we want and what we are going to do, but now it’s time for us to really talk,” he told her. Both were crying.
Rikus stayed strong until the end and kept a firm grip on things. At the very end he told her how happy he had been with her all those years. “How kind you have been to me and what a beautiful life we have had,” he said. Then he gave her a last kiss on the hand. On August 21 last year, Rikus Sunderman breathed his last. Willy read peace on his face.
Stuffy
Rikus was born on March 6, 1951 in Roderwolde. Already in his childhood he was tormented by asthma, COPD. His lungs were not strong. He was in rehabilitation in Beatrixoord almost more often than he was in primary school. And besides, little Rikus was allergic to almost everything. It didn’t help that his father Willem was a smallholder farmer. It made him feel oppressed. Rikus did not thrive around livestock.
The outdoors, nature, the garden, that was what attracted me. Even after the penultimate chemotherapy treatment, he and his Willy went on one of the many holidays. This time to Kenya, but before that they traveled around the world – often by camper: the United States, Argentina, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Norway, Lapland. And from 1997 onwards they went on winter sports every year for a while.
It didn’t bother him that Rikus was afraid of heights. The fresh air beckoned. In the mountains. Or by the sea. At those moments he completely revived. Then no mountain was too high for Rikus.
The national anthem of Drenthe? Beh
Rikus was a Drenthe through and through. He may have worked in the city of Groningen, but he always remained true to his roots. They went to live in Peize. Groningen? He didn’t want to go there until he was dead. If his ashes were scattered on the Wadden Sea. And then together with his Willy.
He got work in the financial administration of the ASPGZ (General City and Provincial Groningen Health Insurance Fund), now Menzis. There, ‘Rieksie’ was sometimes teased by his Groningen colleagues. ‘How does the Drenthe national anthem go, Rikus?’ they would ask. There was laughter, screeching, roaring at the answer: ‘Bah’.
He met Willy Boelens at work. She, five years older, worked in personnel administration. During a company football tournament in Apeldoorn or Arnhem in 1978, a spark was ignited. He played football, she supported. And as the oldest of the weights they kept the players’ wallets.
The first kiss
While she waited for him afterwards with a bag full of wallets, he was already sitting on the bus, waiting for the journey back to Groningen. Rikus met a pissed off Willy on the bus, but he promised her that he would explain everything if she sat next to him.
It never got that far. On the way back, tired from the day, both fell asleep against each other. He kissed her for the first time during the afterparty at the Time Out.
After dating for two years, they married in 1980 and stayed together for 43 years. They accepted that they did not have children. She was attracted by his sincerity and his beautiful eyes.
Slipper
They hardly had words. Rikus didn’t like arguments. If something happened, he would grab his racing bike and cycle away. When he came back, he didn’t say anything for a while. After a while the argument was over.
The print of the slipper she threw at him in the bedroom was living proof of that one argument. She blamed him for always being away from cycling and football. “Then you should have gotten another guy,” he grumbled. The slipper hit the wall. That print should not disappear, Rikus thought.
Order of Orange Nassau
In 2016, Rikus Sunderman and his Willy were appointed Member of the Order of Orange Nassau. They knew that they would be knighted, but they kept it a secret until the moment itself. Rikus had been the silent force of touring cycling club Noad for years and he was also committed to elderly transport in Noordenveld.
Almost no cycling race in the north, but also far beyond, was possible without the support of Rikus. Sunderman meant a lot to cycling. For ten years he was at the heart of the licensing process with municipalities and provinces. He created routes for major races such as Olympia’s Tour, the Ladies Tour and the National Championships.
No pat on the back
That one time, his last, Rikus saved the famous cycling race Olympia’s Tour by decisive action; 25 kilometers before the finish line in Ruurlo, the provincial road suddenly broke up, forcing the peloton to stop. The police officers were at a loss, but Rikus Sunderman stood up as only he could. With a determined look, he came up with an alternative route.
No driver noticed the change in course. Everything had gone smoothly. Rikus had done nothing more than what he had to do. He didn’t need a pat on the back or a compliment for that. But the fact that the police commander did not even come to him afterwards was very disappointing to him.
Getting married in overalls
Rikus Sunderman was secretly proud of that royal ribbon, although he thought it was the most normal thing in the world to help where he could. But wear the jewel? Whoa. Rikus wanted nothing to do with such frills. And in addition, he already had a ribbon from the KNVB, for his years of service as an amateur football referee.
Rikus was averse to outward display. Willy could have already known that when she got married. Rikus should not have had to look for a wedding suit. He would also have liked to get married in overalls. All his simplicity made Rikus special.
Time of Life
Dagblad van het Noorden In Tijd van Leven, he portrays residents of Groningen or Drenthe who have recently passed away. Suggestions? Email to:[email protected]