Henricus Maria Adrianus Winnubst, 68, passed away on May 1, 2021. Henry was born on September 7, 1952, in Arnhem, The Netherlands, to Mimi and Adrianus Winnubst. After losing his father at age seven, he grew closer to his aunts and uncles, coming to consider them as brothers and sisters. Mimi married Frans Zwiers in 1962. Frans (“Pa”) easily fell into the role of father to Henry, Ron, Marian, and shortly thereafter, Nickie. Henry and Ron grew up getting into the kind of trouble that young boys do, Nickie joined in as soon as she was old enough, and all the while Marian ensured no one got into TOO much trouble. After graduating high school, Henry was accepted into the military academy and ultimately became a Dutch Commando.
Henry then attended the University of Nyenrode and came to the United States in 1975 as an exchange student. When given his choice of locations, Henry decided that the Midwest was the only place to receive the true American experience. Henry met his wife, Julie, at Washburn University in Topeka, Kansas. After college graduation, Henry went on to earn his masters in international business from Arizona Thunderbird School of Global Management in 1977. He and Julie married a few weeks later, in January 1978.
One of Henry’s greatest achievements was raising two children, Adrian and Kimberly. He taught them never to take life too seriously, to laugh at themselves, and a thing or two about gardening and home repair. Henry often expressed how happy he was that his children had found their lifelong partners, Andrea (married to Adrian since October 17, 2020) and Nick (engaged to Kimberly since December 21, 2018), whom he also loved dearly.
Henry’s battle with cancer was brief but difficult. As he did with everything, he faced this battle with incomparable strength. He spent his final days surrounded by his family as they exchanged great stories and memories of Henry. While tears were to be expected, there was also a great deal of laughter. He passed peacefully with Julie by his side.
Henry is survived by his wife Julie Winnubst, son Adrian and wife Andrea, daughter Kim and fiancé Nick, father Frans Zwiers, brother Ron and wife Gemma, sister Marian, sister Nickie and husband Willem, numerous aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and a great-nephew.
A visitation will be held at 11:00am followed by a Memorial Service / Mass of Christian Burial on Saturday, May 8, 2021 from 12:00pm to 1:00pm at Church of the Ascension, 9510 West 127th Street, Overland Park, Kansas 66213.
In lieu of flowers, contributions in Henricus' memory may be made to the Go2 Foundation for Lung Cancer in loving memory on behalf of Henry Winnubst.
EULOGY
Good afternoon. As Adrian indicated, we are so thankful and appreciative for the outpouring of love we have received. Dad, always the life of the party, is certainly happy to be the center of attention today—although I’m sure he’d rather the circumstances be different.
In addition to those gathered here, we have received many, many expressions of condolences from the many people who’s life my dad impacted over the years. In describing Henry, the words that have been used include: funny, joyful, boisterous, kind, and indeed the word “life” itself—so few people lived life as fully as my father did.
How difficult it is, then, to discuss a world where Henry’s larger than life personality is no longer a presence. And yet, it is clear that he lives on. It has been said that a person dies twice: once, when they take their last breath, and a second time, later on, when someone says their name for the last time. I am hopeful that based on this wonderful group of people in this room and those who are able to watch overseas, Henry’s name will be spoken for many years to come.
Henry was a lot of things. He was a Commando, he was a husband, he was a gardener, he was a father, he was a coach, he was a buddy, but most of all, dad was a storyteller. He commanded the room—any room—with stories of growing up in Holland, serving in the Dutch military (in fact, when he first met my fiancé, Nick, he made sure to casually tell him a story about how he was a sharpshooter from 500 yards), coming to America as a foreign exchange student, trips back to Europe, and everything in between. Dad was the life of every party—whether it was his or not.
Dad was a family man, through and through. As dad probably let you know no fewer than 100 times, he was from Holland. At the young age of 7, Dad lost his father, who was one of 11 siblings. After the death of his father, he came to view his aunts and uncles more like brothers and sisters. In recent years, Dad would visit them and their families as often as he could, entertaining with stories late into the night. He loved spending time with his father, Frans, sisters, Marian and Nickie, and brother Ron. To watch them altogether was to know what it was to be a family.
Henry was also a wonderful husband. Having just celebrated their 43rd wedding anniversary, he and Julie met when Henry came to Topeka, Kansas as an exchange student and they travelled through life as a team. Julie fondly remembered that she was drawn to him because he could “talk about anything” into all hours of the night. As many in this room can attest, Dad certainly never lost that talent.
Adrian and I both consider ourselves profoundly lucky that we got to call Henry “Dad.” As we’ve both discussed in the past few days, we each had a close and wonderful relationship with dad, something a lot of people are not so fortunate to have. Some of his favorite memories are stopping by Adrian and Andrea’s in the evening. He always happened to stop by around 5 or 6 pm, ensuring an invite for dinner, which Adrian happily acquiesced. Countless nights of “just stopping by for a coffee or beer” turned into several long hours’ dinner conversation with laughs and humor.
He was always there at soccer games, at high school dances, at plays, and at graduations. He made sure to keep the hall light on when I was scared as a kid. He taught us how to fish, how to laugh at ourselves, and certainly how to play soccer.
Dad was extraordinarily proud to be a soccer coach. He coached Adrian through the years—with both the Bulldogs and the Spartans—and he also coached the Kickers, the team I was part of for 10 years. But he championed us. No one was the star of the team—everyone had a role to play and should be celebrated as part of the team. Dad never made anyone feel “less than,” because that’s who he was.
And just as everyone else had their role on a team, Henry’s role in life could properly be surmised as “coach.” In the past few days, I have felt such a deep sadness—that there was so much left for my dad to teach me. But I realized, he taught me the most important thing: to believe in myself and give it a try. After all…as Henry—the king of DIY and home renovation—can attest, the worst thing that could happen is an extra hole in a wall.
Dad wasn’t much of a wordsmith and neither am I, but the poem “Heavy” by Mary Oliver felt fitting:
That time
I thought I could not
go any closer to grief
without dying
I went closer,
and I did not die.
Surely God
had his hand in this,
as well as friends.
Still, I was bent,
and my laughter,
as the poet said,
was nowhere to be found.
Then said my friend Daniel,
(brave even among lions),
“It’s not the weight you carry
but how you carry it –
books, bricks, grief –
it’s all in the way
you embrace it, balance it, carry it
when you cannot, and would not,
put it down.”
So I went practicing.
Have you noticed?
Have you heard
the laughter
that comes, now and again,
out of my startled mouth?
How I linger
to admire, admire, admire
the things of this world
that are kind, and maybe
also troubled –
roses in the wind,
the sea geese on the steep waves,
a love to which there is no reply?
And as difficult as these next few hours, days, weeks, and years will be without Henry in our lives, I hope to find joy in the everyday, laugh hard, and love fiercely. Just like dad taught me.
SHARE OBITUARY
v.1.9.6