10/20/20 10/20/20

Blog Saying goodbye not a one-step process

Saying goodbye to a loved one may seem like something we can capture like a snapshot in our memories. We know the last time we saw or spoke to that person. We may even be present when our loved one takes that last breath. But there is so much more to death than a simple goodbye.

When we lost my husband Keith’s dad earlier this year in the midst of Covid-19, and though the virus wasn’t the cause of his death, it did change the situation. When he went to the hospital the family could not be with him to encourage, hug or pray with him. At least one family member could be there--until he chose Comfort Care rather than aggressive care. It meant family could be with him.

It meant our two children who’d come for a visit with our daughter’s two little ones were able to see their grandfather one last time. They didn’t know how quickly he would be gone, but knew since they did not live here, they probably wouldn’t see him again. He was gone a day later. A goodbye. A memory.

Shock turned into planning the funeral, which we were able to hold in his church and with guests--family and friends who loved him. We filed by the casket, stopping, swallowing hard, and wondering how could a fall so quickly deteriorate to this?

Yet there we were, suffering and encouraging each other at the same time. We said our face-to-face goodbye. After the service, we said goodbye once more at the cemetery where he was laid to rest four years after the death of his wife, my husband’s mother. We heard the pastor’s words of comfort, and heard the 21-gun salute to a former WWII veteran.

As the oldest sibling, Keith who received the flag was overwhelmed and honored. Another goodbye, but goodbyes do not end with a funeral.

Instead, it has become a new chapter of grieving and goodbye’s as the siblings deal with a lifetime lived well. I lost my dad to a heart attack in 1988. He’d been my dad since my birth in 1950. He left a hole in my life and heart. But I also had another father I respected and was glad to share Keith’s dad for the next 32 years. I’d rather have Jiggs back than his inheritance.

But that was not to be, God called him home and I am sure he would not wish to return. It was a goodbye for who knows how long. But one of the hardest goodbyes was getting together with family to go through Dad’s things left in his home.

He hadn’t changed much of anything after Keith’s mom died in 2016, so we had her as well as Dad’s material possessions to go through. Before going to Minden, I’d asked our kids what they wanted from the house. Chris and his children wanted books. I went through boxes and boxes of books, pulling out those our family would enjoy or appreciate. I got recipes for Chris, an amateur chef. It was so hard.

No one fought. What needed to be saved simply needed to go to some family member. Saying yes to another item and packing it away seemed like another goodbye.

Before long what was left in the house would be turned over to the auctioneer. Soon the house that rang with so much laughter from family get-togethers would also be gone. Death isn’t one goodbye. It is a series of goodbyes.

Maybe we need the time in order to grieve. All I know is that I am thankful for life today--even if that means I’ll be saying goodbye again and again as something comes to mind and grief overwhelms.

It happened with my folks and still, though less often now, with my brother who died in 2019. Through it all, I can say goodbye because I know God’s comfort and care through His Word, prayer and through the love of family and friends. Though I know grieving has not ended, I am thankful for today, for the memories and for the knowledge that this life is not all there is.

8/4/20 8/4/20

Blog Bio Jiggs a Special Father-in-law

My father-in-law was a quiet, but strong man. He was the only father in my life since my own father died in 1988. While LaVern (Jiggs) Scheidies was not a loud, boisterous person, his quiet presence drew attention.

He was intelligent and a conversation with him was never boring. His family loved him. Since losing my mother-in-law in 2016, we, as much as he’d allow, pampered Him.

Dad was a farmer, an honorable profession. But he was so much more. In WWII he was a tail gunner. He attended Hastings College when he returned home, before joining his family in farming. He grew corn including some of the best popcorn around. He clerked sales and auctions. He bought property and houses that he rented out.

If you needed a part or some equipment, he’d know where to find what you needed. He was an entrepreneur. In their later years, after Jiggs and Bert left the farm and moved to Minden, I remember once when Keith and I visited. His folks were so excited as they shared the news. They’d purchased a post office of all things. I didn’t even know a private person could own a post office, but it proved to be a good investment.

Keith’s folks loved their five kids of which my husband Keith was the eldest—Keith, Mark, Randy, Rhonda and Tim. They welcomed spouses once their children married. And, they loved their grandkids. Our two enjoyed spending a week or two each summer at the farm. Chris even got to assist with irrigating.

Keith’s folks drove into Kearney to attend games, school and church plays, programs, and other events in which Chris and Cassie were involved. They were the ones who started the tradition of going out for ice cream afterward.

Eventually, the grandkids married and there were great grandkids to spoil. In 2016, we lost my mother-in-law. Two years later, Dad entered Bethany's Home with a staff that took good care of him. He kept his home.

Periodically, Keith and I bought Kentucky Fried Chicken, brought Dad to his home, and enjoyed dinner with him. We loved these special times with Dad. We thought we’d have many more of these times together.Then Covid19 hit and Bethany Home, like other homes for senior citizens, locked down.

No longer could we visit with Dad, except via phone—and he was hard of hearing. It was a hardship for us, but even more so for Dad. It got worse when April 30th Dad’s son Mark died of a freak accident and we could not hug and comfort Dad.

Bethany's staff did facilitate Keith and his siblings visiting Dad through an entry door where he could see them and communicate via a cell. Keith said he smiled the entire time they were there. Maybe we’d get through this.

Then blood clots sent Dad to Good Samaritan Hospital in Kearney. We expected he’d recover. He didn’t. Once in Comfort Care more family could visit. It meant our two who’d come to visit us with Cassie’s little ones (who stayed with us), were able to visit and say goodbye to the Grandfather that they loved and who loved them.

The next day, he passed away. Two huge losses and so close together—neither from the virus. Thankfully, we could hold a funeral and have time to remember, visit those who came and be thankful for a man who honored God, his country, and his family.

I am sad. My heart grieves and yet, I also feel blessed. I am thankful for having two wonderful fathers who loved and influenced me and who left an example of caring and integrity.

I plan my life out a day at a time, so my posting schedule can be erratic.

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