Loss

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My sister-in-law, Rachel Schulenberg left us all too soon just over three years ago. She was just 45 years old. We all felt her loss quite deeply. Rachel was a kind soul, who loved everyone. She had worked at a church in Powell, before she was introduced to my brother-in-law, Ron Schulenberg. When they were married, she moved to Casper, where Ron lived. Prior to that, and even after her marriage, Rachel could often be found talking to people about Jesus. She was sold out to the Lord, which of course, makes me thankful, because we know where she is, and that we will see her again. While we know that is the case, it doesn’t mean that we miss her less. Rachel is the kind of person who makes her mark on your heart, and it never goes away.

Rachel left behind her husband, Ron and three children, and at that time, two grandchildren, Lucas Iverson and Zoey Iverson. She would be thrilled to know that she now has four grandchildren, and a bonus grandson. In addition to Lucas and Zoey, Ryder Birky and Alicen Burr, were born in 2022 and 2023 respectively. Also, Riley’s fiancée, Sierah Martin, had a son, Jace Swan from a prior relationship. I know that her children, Cassie Franklin (Wesley Burr), Riley Birky (Sierah Martin), and Tucker Schulenberg (when he has kids) will all tell their children about their sweet grandmother. They need to be told how very special she was, and how thrilled she was to be a grandmother. I will never forget when Lucas was born, and she first became a grandmother. Lucas was early and very small, and she couldn’t wait to meet him. I’m sure she is looking forward to meeting all of them one day.

Rachel would not only be very proud of her grandchildren, but her children as well. Each of them has gone through some adversity, and they have persevered to come out on top on the other side of their problems. Rachel raised so very strong human beings, and I believe that they will live successful lives that their mother would be very proud of. They are highly motivated to live lives of which their mother would be proud, and that makes me very proud of them. These kids, who are mostly not kids anymore, have become responsible adults…people Rachel would have been really proud of. Of course, she was always proud of her kids. They were always her pride and joy, and she knew that they were going to be ok, because she had trained them to be strong people. I just really wish she could have been her to play with these sweet little grandbabies. Life goes on after a loss, and we must go on with it. I heard an old saying once, in reference to the loss of a loved one. When asked how you get over it, and the answer was, “You don’t get over it…you get on with it.” Truer words were never spoken. While Rachel is no longer her with us, the memories of the good times are, and we will cherish those forever. Happy birthday in Heaven, Rachel. We love and miss you very much.

When I met my mother-in-law, Joann Schulenberg for the first time, I wonder what she thought of me. It’s not that my mother-in-law was a snob or anything, because she certainly wasn’t. Nevertheless, I was just 17 years old, so I could have seemed like a frivolous teenager. As I got to know her better, she would say things like, “You have never canned vegetables?” or “You don’t make your own clothes?” Well, the reality was that I was a teenaged city girl, and she was a country girl. In addition, I was from a completely different generation than she was. She had lives through the depression era, when food was scarce, as were many other things. People did what they had to in order to survive. An experience like that is not something people forget easily. It wasn’t that I had never cooked or even helped make jelly, but living in town, we didn’t have the space for a garden, and so didn’t have the vegetables to can. I also knew how to sew, but I have never liked it. Hmmm…maybe I was a frivolous teenaged girl.

Nevertheless, my mother-in-law never looked down on me, but rather I think she had found a “new student” to teach. When I married into the family, I was introduced many new things. I learned canning, some gardening, and even raising cows for family use. Still, you really can’t take the city out of the girl, even if, for a time, you take the girl out of the city. Just like moving her to the city, didn’t take the country out of her. While I can do those things, I can’t say that I love doing those things. Sorry Mom!! Nevertheless, I loved reaping the benefits of her many talents, like knitting, crocheting, canning, baking (from scratch), sewing, and cooking.

When my mother-in-law began to develop Alzheimer’s Disease, we were all saddened. So much of who she was in the past, began to drift away. Still, some of the best memories of her life stayed with her, and for that we were blessed. True, most of the memories were from her distant past, but those were the ones that we didn’t know about. Her life as a girl, things her parents did, places she lived, horses she loved, and stories about her children’s past too. We found a new part of her and a new way to be blessed by her. Mom changed with Alzheimer’s Disease, but she did not get irritable like many people did. She was sweet and accommodating…if you didn’t ask her to get up and walk. She did require a lot of care and eventually we had no choice, but to place her in a nursing home. She didn’t mind. She was a “people watcher” and so it was a good fit. She didn’t walk the last 4½ years of her life, which might have contributed to her good mood. I think, in the end, she appreciated me more, because as her caregiver, I honestly did my best for her…as did our whole team. Today would have been my mother-in-law’s 93rd birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven, Mom. We love and miss you very much.

My grandmother, Harriet “Hattie” Byer, was a tiny woman, who loved kids, and had nine of them with my grandfather, George Byer. Grandpa worked hard, and he was a soft-hearted man. I’m sure he spanked his kids, but not very much. Grandma was the disciplinarian of the family, and I’m telling you, she might have been small in stature, but my grandma was a powerhouse!! She had a heart of gold, but she just didn’t take any guff. Don’t get me wrong, my grandparents’ home was filled with love and respect. During chores, there would usually be singing and much laughter. Grandma kept the atmosphere light and happy. My aunts and uncles always knew that they were loved. They also, knew that theirs was not to interfere when Grandma was disciplining one of your siblings. She would quickly turn on the one sassing her while she disciplined their sibling.

Evenings would find the family sitting in the living room mesmerized by whatever story Grandma was reading to them that night. Grandma worked so hard, and sometimes it was hard for her to stay awake while reading the evening’s story. Every time she would doze off, the kids would wake her up with calls to read on. Sometimes she just kept on sleeping, and on those days, Grandpa just had to close the book and tell the kids they would hear more the next night. Grandma worked so hard, and for that night, she needed to sleep, and do no more reading.

Grandma was a beautiful woman. She and Grandpa made beautiful children. Every year, we are amazed at how much the family has grown. My guess would be, that Grandma and Grandpa now have over 600 descendants…and counting. When we hit 200, Grandpa said, “Look what we started, Mommy!” He was surprised then. Just imagine what he would think now. Every time I mention an aunt, uncle, or cousin, people say, “Which one?? You are related to half the town!!” Well…yes, that is very likely true…and I have my sweet grandparents to thank for it all. We are not only a large family…we are a very blessed family. And it all started, when my grandfather saw this beauty of a girl, and never looked back. It was love at first sight. Today is the 115th anniversary of my grandmother’s birth. Happy birthday in Heaven, Grandma Byer. We love and miss you very much.

With every passing year, I find myself wondering how it could have been nine years since my mom, Collene Spencer, left us to go to Heaven. Like she lived her life, my mom went out in her own time, and in her own way…on her own terms. I’m sure that you have heard about having a bucket list. Well, my mom had her own kind of bucket list. After my dad, Allen Spencer graduated to Heaven on December 12, 2007, Mom told us that she was going to stay. I don’t know if she thought we thought she would just give up, and maybe we did to a degree, but she told us that she missed Dad very much, but she felt that she had more to give and that there was more life for her to live.

She talked about the things she wanted to do. Her bucket list was filled with simple things really. She wanted to travel to Washington to visit family up there. My Aunt Ruth and Uncle Jim were gone, but their kids, Shirley Cameron and Terry Wolfe were still there, as were their families. She wanted to see them again, so Mom, my sister, Cheryl Masterson and I went in 2013. It was a good trip, even if part of it included my Uncle Jim’s funeral. The next year, we took her to Wisconsin to she family up in the Superior, Wisconsin area. We reconnected with so many people, and had a lovely time, making lasting cousin friendships. Mom got to reconnect her brother-in-law, Bill Spencer, her sister-in-law, Doris Spencer, as well and good cousin friends, Les and Bev Schumacher, Carol Carlson, Bernice Hutchison, and several of their family members. Mom was so happy to see her relatives on that side of the family, who had become her close friends too.

Mom had always said that she wouldn’t mind going to Heaven straight from church, and she almost did. On Thursday of that last week, we took Mom to dinner at Red Lobster (one of her favorite places). Then, on Sunday, we all went to church, as we always did, but this day was to be different. Mom’s sister, Evelyn Hushman was in the hospital. She had terminal Breast Cancer, and Mom wanted to get all of her remaining siblings to meet at the hospital to have lunch with Aunt Evelyn. They were all able to make it, except Aunt Dixie Richards. They all had a lovely lunch, and really enjoyed the visit. That night, Mom and my sister, Cheryl had a nice dinner and watched a movie. At 10:00pm, Mom said she was going to bed. Cheryl loaded the dishwasher and went in to take Mom her pills, but Mom would no longer be needing those pills, or any other pills. She was lying on the floor, peacefully. She had not fallen, because nothing was disturbed. She could not have laid down there by herself, because her knees would never have allowed that without disturbing everything in the room. You can say what you will, but we know that the angels carefully laid our mom down there on the floor, when they took her spirit to Heaven, because Mom was ready to go. She had been talking about it for weeks, if not months. I think she might have left during church, had it not been for the chance to say goodbye to her siblings. What a blessed way for a blessing of a lady to graduate to Heaven!! We love and miss you so much, Mom. Tell Dad we love and miss him too. You are in our future now, and we will see you both again someday.

The Space Shuttle Challenger mission, named STS-51-L, was the twenty-fifth Space Shuttle flight and the tenth flight of Challenger. The crew was announced on January 27, 1985, and was commanded by Dick Scobee. Michael Smith was assigned as the pilot, and the mission specialists were Ellison Onizuka, Judith Resnik, and Ronald McNair. The two payload specialists were Gregory Jarvis, who was assigned to conduct research for the Hughes Aircraft Company, and Christa McAuliffe, who flew as part of the Teacher in Space Project. The mission was originally scheduled for July 1985, but was delayed to November and then to January 1986. The mission was scheduled to launch on January 22, but was delayed until January 28, 1986. This was definitely a “less than ideal” situation. Delay after delay, maybe should have raised a serious red flag, but somehow, it did not. At least not to the people who could have changed the outcome.

One man…Roger Boisjoly knew that the Challenger space shuttle might fail catastrophically at any time. There may have been others I suppose, but none that chose to try to take action. Boisjoly knew that every mission was an accident waiting to happen. Knowing that, he tried to stop the launch on January 28, 1986. He had a definite sick feeling about this mission, but NASA refused to acknowledge his objections. That fact amazes me!! Boisjoly was a rocket engineer who worked for a company that NASA contracted with. He had noticed that the Challenger’s booster rockets had a major design flaw. Their elastic seals had a tendency to stiffen and unseal in cold weather. I’m sure that most of NASA simply took for granted that there would not be much cold weather in Florida. Nevertheless, on this occasion, the Challenger was scheduled for a winter launch. The time had come, and Boisjoly knew that the temperatures would be too low for the booster rocket seals to handle, even in Florida. He convinced colleagues at his engineering company to formally recommend NASA delay the launch. They did, but NASA ignored that recommendation. It was a life altering, or life ending decision on NASA’s part. Most of us know that the rest is history. The launch took place, the seals failed, and the Challenger exploded less than two minutes after it launched. That day, because of the foolish stubbornness and arrogance of NASA, seven people lost their lives. The air temperature on that January 28 was predicted to be a record-low for a Space Shuttle launch. The air temperature was forecast to drop to 18° F overnight before rising to 22° F at 6:00am and 26° F at the scheduled launch time of 9:38am. For most of us, those temperatures wouldn’t seem to be so severe, but for that little seal, it was very severe. Why couldn’t they have swallowed their pride, and postponed a little longer until the temperature warmed a bit. Were we really in that big a rush to start that mission, that we were willing risk the lives of seven people in the attempt. I love the space program and all that it has accomplished, but the people who made that choice that day were foolish and selfish.

When my husband, Bob’s uncle, Bobby Cole comes to mind, I am taken back to the days when my girls, Corrie Petersen and Amy Royce, were little. Whenever we took a trip to see Bobby and Bob’s aunt, Linda Cole, we always had a great time. The girls got to play with their cousins, Sheila and Pat, and we enjoyed visiting and playing cards with Linda and Bobby. In those days, they lived in Kennebec, South Dakota. It was a tiny little town, with very little to do, so having visitors was a big deal to them.

Linda and Bobby owned a hotel, and there were a few guests, but not really very many. It was like they owned a bed and breakfast…for us anyway. The rest of the guests had to go somewhere else for their breakfast. Bummer for them!! The visit was always so relaxing. The small-town feel was always there, and really, I loved it. I wouldn’t want to live in a small town all the time, but as an annual getaway, it was nice. I suppose it was the break from the everyday that held the majority of the appeal. We didn’t get to see Linda and Bobby much, so having the unhurried time to visit was a rare treat. They were always so full of laughter and fun.

A few years later, their hotel was struck by lightning during a summer storm, and it burned to the ground. After the fire, they made the decision to get out of the hotel business, and to get out of Kennebec. That was when they moved to Winnemucca, Nevada, and for the most part the annual trips stopped. Winnemucca was too far away to make it a weekend trip, like we could with Kennebec. I was always sorry to see those trips end. It was rather like the end of an era. The only thing that was more sad was when Bobby passed away, and then when Linda passed away. I will always miss them. They were a very fun couple. Today would have been Bobby’s 81st birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven, Bobby. We love and miss you very much.

It’s hard for me to believe that my uncle, Bill Spencer has been in Heaven for more than three years already. Uncle Bill chose Christmas Day to go. I think maybe he wanted to spend the holiday with his parents and siblings. He was the last of the original family to go to Heaven, and with Covid stalking the world, he didn’t get to see his children as much either. Since Uncle Bill had Dementia, he probably didn’t realize that he didn’t get to see much of his family, but they knew it, and it made them sad. There were months and months during which they could not go visit him, and sadly it didn’t matter that all these precautions were taken. Uncle Bill still got Covid, and by Christmas Day, he was ready to go home. And so, on Christmas Day 2020, the Spencer brothers got back together again.

My dad, Allen Spencer was two years younger than his brother, Bill, but they were the very best of friends. When they were together, you didn’t have to ask them to talk about their childhood, all you have to do was sit back and listen, because the stories were the talk of the day. They had so many great adventures. They would go fishing, swimming, and boating with friends. They also loved getting into mischief, and dynamite was one of their favorite mischief makers. They normally used dynamite to remove tree stumps, but they weren’t above the Independence Day “fireworks” display or the “gate post” experiment. They were very industrious boys, and in those days, before things like video games, television (while it did exist, was not common in every household), and telephones (they were first in homes in 1856, but only 35% of homes in the 1920s had one), kids actually played outside, and used their imaginations. These brothers had the best time. They rode their bicycles for miles and miles. They hopped the trains…no, not like illegally. These boys had a pass, because their dad worked on the trains, but they never simply boarded a train…they hopped the train, even though they were scolded for it, they hopped the trains anyway. Danger be hanged!! Oh, the adventures they had.

When the United States entered World War II, the brothers were all set to go into the Army Air Force together, but Uncle Bill had a hernia and flat feet, so they wouldn’t take him. My dad went in alone, and his big brother, who had always been there to take care of him, was…well, a little frantic about it. He didn’t want my dad to go without him. He worried about his little brother. Sending any family member into the military in times of war, is something any family would worry about, and Uncle Bill was no exception. So, while his brother fought in the war, Uncle Bill worked on the planes here at home. Uncle Bill was a welder, and his skills were very important in the building of the planes that would fight and eventually win World War II. His was a very important job, and I am very proud of the part he played in the victory. Today would have been Uncle Bill’s 102nd birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven, Uncle Bill. We love and miss you very much.

Any illness that takes a life is a tragedy, but sometimes an illness doesn’t take the life, exactly, it just stops everything about that life…in its tracks. In January of 1988 at age 12, Martin Pistorius of South Africa came down with a strange illness. his illness was so unusual, that his doctors weren’t even sure what it was. Nevertheless, they did speculate that it might be Cryptococcal Meningitis. Cryptococcosis is a potentially fatal fungal infection of mainly the lungs, where it presents as a type of pneumonia; and also, the brain, where it appears as a meningitis. The symptoms seem common enough…a cough, difficulty breathing, chest pain, and fever are seen when the lungs are infected. When the brain is infected, symptoms include headache, fever, neck pain, nausea and vomiting, light sensitivity, and confusion or changes in behavior. It can also affect other parts of the body including skin, where it may appear as several fluid-filled nodules with dead tissue.

As the disease progressed, Pistorius got progressively worse. At first, he lost the ability to move by himself, then his ability to make eye contact, and finally his ability to speak. His parents were told their son was essentially in a vegetative state, basically they were told he was almost brain dead, that he wasn’t “really there” and would die soon. It was the most devastating news a parent could hear, but Pistorius didn’t die. He just stayed in a vegetative state for the next 12 years. His parents couldn’t give up on their son, and so, they took care of him…bathing, dressing, and feeding him. They days turned into years…years of grieving, sadness, weariness, and a sense of having made a mistake, for not “letting him go” sooner. The weariness got so bad that one day, not knowing her son could hear her, Joan Pistorius told him, “I hope you die.” It was a harsh thing to say, but she thought he was brain dead, and she was simply exhausted.

As Joan Pistorius would later find out, to her horror I’m sure, her son heard and understood every word. Somewhere between the ages of 14 and 16, Pistorius had begun to wake up…slowly. At first, it may have been barely noticeable, but at some point, it got to where Pistorius later recalled, “I was aware of everything, just like any normal person.” He could hear, and very much understand and process what he heard, but he couldn’t say or do anything about what he heard or let anyone know that he had heard. The condition Pistorius had, is known as “locked-in syndrome” and can be caused by a stroke, traumatic brain injury, infection, or drug overdose. There is no known cure. I’m sure the situation was even more frustrating for Pistorius, than it was for his mom. Although Pistorius could see, hear, and understand everything, he couldn’t move his body. “Everyone was so used to me not being there that they didn’t notice when I began to be present again,” he later recalled. “The stark reality hit me that I was going to spend the rest of my life like that – totally alone.”

Pistorius made a conscious choice to disengage from his thoughts as his way of coping. Because of his condition, Pistorius spent a lot of time at a care center while his mother worked. He hated the children’s TV show Barney, and that was on constantly there. That show led him to start reengaging with his thoughts in an attempt to take some control of his life. As his thought life improved, so did his body. Then, one glorious day, a relief worker at his daycare center noticed his slight movements and realized Pistorius could communicate. She immediately told his parents, telling them to get another evaluation. Finally, they knew he was conscious. His recovery wasn’t instantaneous, of course, but by age 26, he could use a computer to communicate. Pistorius later enrolled in college, majoring in computer science and started a company online. It was a long road, but he has come full circle, by 2011 when he published his memoir, “Ghost Boy.” Pistorius met his wife Joanna, who is from England in 2008 through his sister Kim, who had moved to there. After meeting Joanna, he moved to England too, and they were married in 2009. By that time, while still using a wheelchair, he was racing in it. Their son, Sebastian Albert Pistorius, was born a few months later.

It’s a sad thing when someone dies with no next of kin…no friends or loved ones to see to funeral arrangements, last wishes, or even, to attend the funeral. I suppose for the most part, the unfortunate departed one would probably be cremated and no funeral would be held…at least in most places that would be the case. That seems even more sad than someone who lived their last days alone, with no friends and no family. It’s almost like being thrown away.

In Amsterdam, however, they just can’t stand the thought of such a sad end to such a sad life. So, they began a tradition. In a heart-warming tribute to those lost souls who pass without any next of kin or friends, a poet will write a poem and even recite it at the funeral. What an incredible act of kindness and compassion!! These poets are not paid for their services, and yet they take to time to write a poem specifically for the newly departed person, even though the poet never knew the departed.

Frank Starik leads a group of poets in Amsterdam. These poets attend the funerals of the city’s “unmourned” dead, remembering them with a specially composed poem. “I want to give them back a life, a history” he told Reuters reporter Alexandra Hudson. The social services in Amsterdam bury around 250 people a year, and about 15 of those depart with no trace of relatives or friends. For most of us that seems unheard of and shocking, but I suppose that these people are often buried or cremated with little fanfare, so we rarely hear anything about them, but these are the cases closely watched by the poet group, so they can step in and give their own tribute and a labor of compassion and love for a person who had no one to love them. While the poets write their poems, the city contributes by providing a coffin, bouquet of flowers, and even plays music best guessed to be the deceased’s choice of music. I’m not sure how they know what music to use, but maybe they look at the things in the deceased’s home, or anything else like name the wearing of a cross. I love these acts of kindness, and what social worker told Reuters when he said, “Everyone in Amsterdam – rich or poor – should have a dignified funeral, with flowers, with coffee and some thoughts about their life. We are not responsible for how they lived, but we are responsible for them in death, and if they died in Amsterdam then they are one of us.” I can’t think of an act of kindness that is more touching than this. Well done, Amsterdam. Well done.

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