In Remberance

Papa and Mama were but three months from celebrating their fifty-ninth year of marriage when Mama went home to the Lord. She had written down the Bible verses and songs that were to be used during her service. The paper was packed away in her cedar chest in their Iowa home. She died in Phoenix. We found them when my brother Rein, his lovely wife Edna, and I cleaned out their home when Papa passed away two and one-half years later.

Mama had been hit with a massive stroke while they were lunching at Garcia’s. An ambulance was there within minutes. Mama was still conscious and did not like strangers touching her. She was always the feisty one. She made an attempt to double her fist and looked at the attendant, “Get away from me, or I’ll hurt you like you've never been hurt.”
She was ignored, oxygen attached, and rushed to the hospital. She passed away three weeks later. I returned to Phoenix after her death to be with Papa.

Mama was clairvoyant. She had called me four weeks before the stroke and said, “If you want to see me, come now; not when I’m dead.”

I left immediately and spent almost two weeks with them. Why she didn't tell me about what she wanted at her funeral I’ll never know.

Papa had visited his Pastor before journeying to Council Bluffs for an operation. He selected the hymns and readings for his funeral. He thought everything was in order, except he forgot to tell the hospital administrators that he did not want resuscitated if his heart stopped. The heart stopped, but they brought him back. Papa became so angry that he refused to eat. There was nothing they could do to change his mind.

I was notified that he was failing, and flew to Iowa. I stayed with my cousin and her husband in Council Bluffs. She took me to the hospital each morning when she went to work and picked me up on her way home.

One evening she told me, “There’s nothing they can do if he’s determined to die. They can’t pump enough liquids and nourishment down him with tubes.” She was right.

During his last days, he really didn't know us as my brother Rein and wife, Edna, had arrived from Phoenix. My cousin, G. A. and his wife, Louise, came from Waterloo. We watched with amazement one day when the Lutheran Chaplain was there. He had prayed with all of us and then pronounced the Blessing heard at the end of a Lutheran service. Papa’s face cleared and he slept naturally for awhile.

The young Chaplain was shaken. “I've heard of the power of God’s Word all my life. This is the first time I've ever seen it.” He finally said.

Papa in his silent way was still teaching us all.