Loss
Sixty two years ago today two very special people said “I do.” Those people were my parents, and this year will be the first anniversary that we will spend without either of them, and the first that they will spend together since 2007. That is such a strange thing for me…to think that the two people who brought me and my sisters into this world, are no longer in it with us. It is a change that I never wanted to have happen, and yet I am happy for them, because they are back together again. You see, my parents were more than husband and wife, they were friends…from the first time they met. It was a match made in Heaven, and while I know that life in Heaven doesn’t involve husbands and wives, it does involve friends. That is what we will all be, so they are very much enjoying their time together. While this feels sad to me, it is for them…joyous.
My mother was taken by my dad the first time she laid eyes on him. She thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. And Dad was pretty taken with Mom too. I never heard him call her by her name, but rather always by the name Doll. He always wanted her to know that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen too. They never wanted anything more than just to be together. They did as much together as they could, and I think that the years they each worked were for them the hardest, because they had to be apart for hours on end. Not many people can work with their spouse, but my parents could, and did for a number of years. They enjoyed every moment together.
For them, life took on its own pace, and it was often slower than many people today live their lives…including me. They lived on Byer Time, mostly because the song, “Waitin’ On A Woman” hadn’t been written yet. Nevertheless, my dad was used to waitin’ on a woman, and he never got upset about it. He loved her and he was always patient with her slower pace. I, on the other hand, was seldom as patient…unless Dad told me to be quiet. Mom was the Queen of the Castle, and Dad her Prince Charming. She was always so loved by him. He was always so caring. He was really one of the last of the true gentlemen. There seems to be very little protecting of women from things like foul language, splatter from passing cars…you know, all the things men did in the olden days…before women’s lib came upon us. No, I’m not a fan.
When my parents married, it was for life, and to spend as much time with each other as possible. And theirs was a beautiful marriage, filled with so many blessings. They traveled, worked and played together, and they 
taught their girls about the kind of marriages we would want to have. While our husbands were different that our dad in some ways, they were like him in many others, because we knew the kind of man we would want our husband to be like…a Prince Charming, like our dad. And we wanted to be the Queen of the Castle…just like our mom. Today marks the day that would have been the 62nd Anniversary for these two wonderful people. Happy Anniversary in Heaven, Mom and Dad!! Hope your day is beyond amazing!! We love and miss you both so very much, but we will see you again very soon.
My sister-in-law, Marlyce Schulenberg was developmentally disabled. In many ways that made her always seem younger than her years. In reality, she probably never aged past her teen years, mentally. Still, Marlyce could do some things that adults do, such as cooking and working. In those ways she was much like any grown up person her age.
Marlyce lived with her parents, my in-laws, Walt and Joann Schulenberg, all her life, but she was a part of a school in Casper at that time, that trained developmentally disabled people to be productive members of society, and then worked to place them in jobs. Marlyce loved her job, and enjoyed going to work every day. It made her feel good about herself, and it made her feel like she was a grownup, like everyone else around her. Marlyce just wanted to belong in the adult world. Something most of us can understand.
Before Marlyce was forty, she contracted Cancer, and at the young age of just thirty nine years, she lost her life in that battle. It was a devastating loss to all of us, her family, and to all who knew her. Nevertheless, time marches on, and while we will always miss her sweet smiling face, the hats she knitted, and the wonderful chocolate chip cookies she made, we will miss her more than any of those things. Marlyce was the sweetest sister-in-law in the world. She was kind and caring. She loved being an aunt when all the nieces and nephews started coming along.
Her life was sadly, very short in the grand scheme of time, but in that timeframe, Marlyce lived a full life. She was not held back by the limitations that most of us do not consider limitations, like husband and children, but in reality, they are things that must be taken into consideration when deciding whether to read a book, take a trip with parents, or even take a nap. She could, for the most part anyway 
make her own choices. And that was what allowed her to live a full life in just a few short years. Nevertheless, we all wish she was still here.
Today, Marlyce would have turned sixty five. I wonder what she would have been like now. Things would have been a bit more difficult in that her dad is in Heaven, and her mom in a nursing home. I’m not sure where she would have been living. Perhaps with one of her siblings or maybe in a group home. She would be ready to retire, but I’m not sure she would have wanted to do so. It’s all speculation, of course, because we will never know. Today Marlyce would have been sixty five, but in reality, she is forever thirty nine. Happy birthday in Heaven, Marlyce. We love and miss you very much.
My memories of the Black Hills date back to my childhood, when our parents would take us there. We learned to love the area because of them. Then as adults, we began coming over as a bunch of families. We did everything from the fireworks to shopping to sitting around the campfire at night. I have so many memories of this area, and mom and dad’s echo lives here. It is in the trees, the monuments, and along the roads. I hear them pointing things out to us. They knew all the points of interest. The echo of their words and stories lives on in my mind whenever I’m in the Black Hills, and it doesn’t matter if we are hiking, touring, or in the towns. I can still hear them telling us about the area and their favorite places.
Mom and Dad loved coming here, to the Black Hills, and they spent a lot of time showing us all there was to see. Of course, with the hiking Bob and I do, we have found a few things to see that they have never seen, except when they looked at our many pictures. Nevertheless, we still go and see the things they always loved, and of course, we go to their favorite fireworks display in the world. The fireworks in Custer are amazing, and it’s a display that Bob and I haven’t missed in years either, except the year they were cancelled because the fire danger was too great. Even then, we didn’t mind it, because we would never want fire to destroy such a beautiful area, and having the display then, could have.
While we love coming to the Black Hills, it still felt strange to be here without either of them. I know it was especially hard on my sister, Cheryl Masterson, who always shared a room with them and later with Mom. I think for Cheryl, it felt a little bit like being at loose ends. She was in the place they had stayed for years, but she was there alone. She came over with her kids, so the trip wasn’t alone, but it was just that she was in the 
motel room alone. It just felt strange, and empty. In fact, she found it so empty that she chose to stay with her daughter Liz Masterson at her friend’s house the last night. I can certainly understand how she felt, because coming into the Black Hills, I felt exactly the same way. It was more than a little disconcerting. Then, at the fireworks, when all the family that had made the trip were together the subject turned to Mom and Dad. It was bittersweet, because we knew that they would be glad that we came, but we were sad that they couldn’t. A ton of bricks moment for sure…being there without them.
Not every great grandmother is so blessed to have a really close relationship with their great grandchildren, and it is even more rare with the youngest of twenty great grandchildren, in which the oldest one is twenty four. My mother, Collene Spencer was a very blessed woman. Her relationship with her youngest great grandchild, Aleesia Spethman, who is my sister, Cheryl Masterson’s granddaughter, was one that was the rarest of the rare, and just as blessed for both of them. Aleesia has three older brothers, and at two years of age, taking her to all the activities the boys are into is difficult. That works our really well for my sister and it also worked quite well for our mom, because they got to see the baby often.
For Aleesia, the two relationships were different, even though they lived in the same house, and spent the time together. She loved both her grandma and her great grandmother, but the relationships were very unique. Aleesia decided that Mom would be called GiGi. Aleesia is too young to know that our mom was her great grandmother. The name GiGi seemed very fitting to my sister, because Mom was, after all Aleesia’s great grandmother, or GG. Aleesia loved coming over to GiGi’s house. Every time she came over, she would run in calling for GiGi. Then she would run over to see her. Aleesia trusted GiGi implicitly. Every time she was there, she would pull Mom’s walker over to Mom’s chair and climb up on it. Then she would jump from it into Mom’s arms. It never occurred to Aleesia that Mom wouldn’t catch her…she knew her GiGi would always catch her. It was a relationship that was so sweet to watch.
When Mom went to Heaven, the family and especially Aleesia’s parents, Jenny and Steve Spethman, and my 
sister, Cheryl, were worried about how Aleesia would deal with that, especially since Cheryl would continue to live in Mom’s house. She has done pretty well. She asked about Mom often at first, then she seemed to understand that GiGi wasn’t there, but even a two year old Aleesia is not immune to those ton of bricks moments. The other day, as Aleesia and my sister, her grandma, Cheryl were coming to the house to spend the evening at Mom’s house, Aleesia ran up to the door excitedly like she used to before, and knocking on it she said “We see GiGi?” Then she stopped and looked down, like she realized something. She turned and saw Mom’s car parked on the street, and with a really sad face, she said, “She’s not home.” Such a sad thing for a little two year old to have to try and understand, because her GiGi has always meant so much to her.
After a month and a half of having my daughter, Amy Royce, her husband, Travis, and their son, Caalab living in the Seattle, Washington area, I find myself feeling a little bit better…in some ways. I find myself spending time on Google Earth looking over the area they live in, and hoping to find some cool thing for them to see, that they might not have realized was even there. Although, they really don’t need my help to find the sights. They have been exploring for weeks now. I know they love their new home, but I would love to turn back the hands of time, to a time when they were still here…if I could.
Recent years have take several people out of my life…some I will see on this Earth again, and some I will only see in Heaven. In most ways, I would not ever choose to turn back the hands of time, because I keep thinking of all the people who wouldn’t be in my life if I was a little girl, a teenager, or even a young mother. Not having my husband, children, or grandchildren would never be my choice, simply for the opportunity to be younger, but would that I could turn back time…maybe just fifteen years to a time when both my parents were healthy, as was my father-in-law, and my kids still lived here…I might consider it…if it were possible. Unfortunately, it isn’t possible, so I must live in the time that I am in, and with the circumstances as they exist now. That is the way life is.
As for Amy and her family, I am thankful that we will travel to see them and they will travel to see us. I am thankful for free long distance, texting, Facetime, Skype, and Facebook, because they make it so much easier to keep in touch. I see how happy they are, and it is hard to wish things were different for them. I have never met anyone who loves the rain more than Amy, so the Seattle area is really perfect for Amy. Having them 
there is just not perfect for me. I guess it would not matter if we were able to zip across the nation as quickly as they could on Star Trek, but we can’t, so I am left feeling lonely and thinking that it would be nice to turn back the hands of time for a little while anyway.
Our lives, nevertheless, are a series of events that once they are played out, there is very little option to go back and change them. We must live them out, following the twists and turns that our journey’s road takes us on, and just doing the best we can to live each moment to the fullest, because even if we would turn back time, we can’t turn back time. Each day once spent is over and can never be spent a second time.
Sixty six years ago, when the bitterly cold winter of 1949 was finally over and spring had finally arrived, my mother-in-law, Joann Knox was a young girl of eighteen, and she was in love. She had known her future husband and the love of her life, Walter Schulenberg, all her life. Still, knowing him didn’t mean they were always in love, or even that they liked each other. Little kids can be friends with someone, and then when they get older, things change. Then, as was the case with my in-laws, things can change again. That annoying teenaged boy or girl suddenly takes on a new look to you. Suddenly, the time is right, and they both wonder why they didn’t see this person this way before. That’s how it was for my in-laws. Grandma Knox, Joann’s mom told me once that after they got older, Mom didn’t like Dad one bit. I would guess that was probably in his bratty adolescent years, when most boys are awkward around girls…especially if they like them at all.
As the years went by, Walt and Joann moved in different circles, and didn’t really see each other very much, but then one day, he noticed her again. My mother-in-law wasn’t too sure how she felt about his new found interest in her, as she still thought of him as a bit of an annoying boy, but if you knew my father-in-law at all, you would know that he had a winning personality, and it was really hard not to like him. That is what my mother-in-law found too. Before long, they were an item. First meeting them after many years of marriage, and meeting them is a more reserved situation…for my mother-in-law at least, I never saw the love struck side of their early relationship. I don’t think their kids really did either. Their love letters, written during the times he was working one place and she another, were tender and sweet. It was such a surprise to see those letters, because they just never seemed to me to be the googly eyed kind of couple, and yet, here in their letters, they were.
As time passed, their future plans began to grow, and when Joann graduated, they decided to be married. Like their granddaughter, Corrie Petersen, my daughter, they didn’t wait very long after graduation. The wedding took place on the 5th anniversary of D-Day, a fact that I seriously doubt that either of them gave a single thought to…at least not that year. Like many marriages of that time, it was a simple wedding…much like my own parents’ wedding just a few years later. My mother-in-law wore a simple peach colored dress and my father-in-law a suit. Nevertheless, it was for them the perfect day…the culmination of the many years of an on again, off again friendship, now turned to a forever kind of love. Today marks the 66th anniversary of that wedding day, and while my father-in-law has been gone now for two years, my mother-in-law is still alive, and since she does not realize that he is gone, we will still tell her happy anniversary…at the same time that we tell her that Dad is out in the garage working on a car, or at Walmart, or visiting the neighbors, because to tell her he is gone would be just too mean. Happy anniversary to my in-laws, Walt…in Heaven, and Joann, here on Earth. Have a wonderful day. We love you both very much.
Yesterday, was one of the harder days of going through our parents’ things. Some of the most valuable possessions they had went to new homes. I don’t suppose everyone would find these items valuable, but to us they are priceless. The two old trunks that had belonged to Dad…his personal trunk and his military trunk, Mom’s wedding outfit and Dad’s wedding suit, Dad’s Army Air Forces dress uniform, his daily wear uniform, and his military coats, as well as his medals, and the Bible Mom carried at her wedding, all found new owners, and for some of the things, new homes. It felt really sad somehow, that these things wouldn’t be together anymore, but yet we also felt very blessed to receive the things we did, because they would now be treasured by a new generation of people. Our children and grandchildren will also get to see them, and hear the stories about the lives of their grandparents. The blessings are definitely there, but it still feels sad to separate the things forever. They have been in the same house for 56 years.
The process of separating our parents’ things moves so fast sometimes that we don’t even think about taking the time to take pictures of these most precious items…until later. The good news is that they are not being sold, so we can will have other chances to get together, and the smaller items that should be grouped together could be brought together again. We also all have the ability to take pictures of those previous items and send them to each other. Nevertheless, the feeling that the order of things just isn’t right anymore, continue to persist. I know we all feel it, but I think maybe for my sister, Cheryl Masterson, it s just a little bit more pronounced. The home she has lived in for so much of her life, just doesn’t look quite the same as it always has. Of course, the things in the house are the least of the changes the house has seen in the last seven and a half years. The biggest and most painful change is that the people who always graced that house, our parents are gone now. The things in the house are 
secondary to that loss, by a great distance, but nevertheless, they still feel like a loss.
I guess, the main reason that it feels somewhat right to divide up our parents’ things is that it is the only way that we can keep them close to each of us…their things that is. We each, always have Mom and Dad close to us in our hearts, but having their things around us…brings them just a little bit closer somehow. That is really the reason why people want their parents’ things…to make them feel closer to us. Each and every time we look at their things, their memory instantly appears, and that is, after all, the purpose of mementoes. For us, the sadness appears when we realize that the wedding dress and the wedding suit will live in different homes, the uniform and the medals won’t be together anymore. And eventually their home will take on a new appearance. It will be Cheryl’s home, and it will look like her home, and not Mom and Dad’s anymore. It is a sad reality that we all must face.
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Last night, while my sister, Cheryl Masterson and I were going through several boxes of our parents paperwork to prepare it for shredding, we came across a number of letters from different family members. I was drawn to some from my dad’s brother, William Spencer. One letter was written on March 5, 1990, and told a lot about the small town of Holyoke, Minnesota, where the family lived for a number of years. Uncle Bill talked of how the town was just a skeleton now, and so unlike its former self. I could read the sadness in his thoughts. Holyoke was a place that, in his childhood, had seemed larger than life. He knew every inch of it. He and my dad, their sister, Ruth, and their friends had dodged the trains, played ball, gone to school, fished the stream, and…well, lived life there. Uncle Bill was sad, because now, all that was changing.
Uncle Bill wrote of the passing of this friend, and that friend, as well as all the citizens, teachers, parents, and business owners who had lived in the little town of Holyoke. While the passing of the people he knew and loved was hard enough, the loss of the different buildings in the town was equally devastating to my dear Uncle Bill. I think the building that was the hardest for him to see go was the little church, which held the baptismal font that had been built in 1935 by Fritz Fredrick, who is the father of my cousins Gene and Dennis Fredrick. Fritz also did most of the cabinet work, too. It was very hard for Uncle Bill to think of that baptismal font being left to rot, so he bought it and gave it to one of Fritz’s sons. Uncle Bill writes about how sad it makes him to see the buildings delapitated and, in his words, forlorn. Nevertheless, he continues to be drawn to Holyoke because it feels like going home to him. He loves the people there, and loves to spend time visiting with them. Holyoke is and always will be a part of him…like it’s in his DNA.
Uncle Bill’s letter continues to draw me back to it in much the same way that Holyoke draws Uncle Bill back to ![10342804_10203606793869323_3232942561128602595_n[1]](https://carynschulenberg.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/10342804_10203606793869323_3232942561128602595_n1.jpg)
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it, because even if the feelings are raw and painful to a degree, it is harder not to make the trip than it is the deal with the feelings when you go back there. My mom, Collene Spencer, my sister, Cheryl Masterson, my cousin Bill Spencer (Uncle Bill’s son), and I visited Holyoke this past August while we were back in Superior, Wisconsin, and I can completely understand how Uncle Bill feels about that place. I don’t recall having been there before, but like my Uncle Bill, Holyoke, Minnesota will continue to live in my heart. I guess that some places simply have that affect on you.
Sometimes special days like Mother’s Day are harder than others. That is exactly how I feel about this, my first Mother’s Day without my mom, Collene Spencer, who went to Heaven on February 22, 2015. And to top it off, it is the first since my daughter, Amy Royce moved to Washington, on May 5, 2015. I am thankful that we still have my mother-in-law, Joann Schulenberg with us, as well as my oldest daughter, Corrie Petersen, because they have both been a comfort to me during this difficult past couple of months. Unfortunately, this is the way life is. Nothing stays the same, and we are left with the emotions that never fail to present themselves at the most inopportune moments, and are so hard to keep in check.
Nevertheless, emotions or not, we will rejoice is all that Mother’s Day is. I give thanks for the moms in my life, in Heaven and on Earth, because they gave life to me and to my husband, Bob Schulenberg. I also give thanks to God for the two beautiful blessings He gave me, in my daughters, Corrie and Amy. And of course, I give thanks for the four wonderful grandchildren my daughters have been blessed with. They are the greatest gift a mother of grown children can ever receive.
Life takes our journeys on many different twists and turns, and some of them are less than enjoyable, but the love of our mothers and families will always be with us. I know that my mother is happy in Heaven, and that there are no tears of loneliness there. It is as if she just left us only moments ago…for her anyway. For us, it is quite different. Her presence is missed every day. As for my mother-in-law, we rejoice that she is still here with us and that we can continue to enjoy time with her. She is the last of our living parents now, and we do not look forward to the day when she will also go. While my daughter, Amy is 1200 miles away, the internet, telephone, and texting make that distance seem a little shorter. And I, of course, give thanks for my daughter, Corrie, who while she is missing her sister too, has been a great comfort to me.
But, today is not about focusing on sadness, and I hope you will all forgive my little Pity Party. Today is about celebrating the wonder that is a mother. Without the selfless act of giving birth to us their children, none of us 
would exist. They cared for us when we were sick and put up with us in our horrible years…and yes, we all had those, whether your mother says you did or not. They cheered us on as we set out to broaden our horizons, and helped us with the difficult learning steps along the way. They are a gift to each of us from God above, who only gives us the very best. Now you know why your mother is such a wonderful person. She was God’s gift sent just for you to love you always. Happy Mother’s Day to the mothers out there, and to my own in Heaven, the one I still have here, and to my daughters too.
Sometimes, when you look back in the history of a family, you come across a number of events that by themselves are devastating enough, but when they are put in the context of the entire history of that family, they can leave you wondering just how much one family can take. While visiting with my aunt, Sandy Pattan a week ago, she told me about a tragedy that I had heard a little bit about before, but really had no details as to who was involved. Now, with a name to put in the story, I set out to find out the exact details. I did find those details, and much more. Enough, in fact to leave me in complete shock.
It seems that when my great grandmother, Estella Shaw Pattan was a girl, she survived a tornado that took the life of her little sister. The circumstances were horrible to imagine, because Estella, or Stella as she was called, was doing everything she could do to save her little sister. People just didn’t know what they needed to do in a tornado. Stella was tightly holding her little sister, Ella Shaw who was just six weeks old, when the tornado ripped her out of her big sister’s arms. Ella would not survive, nor unfortunately, would her older sister, Bertha Delilah Shaw, who was just nine years old at the time of her death. During that same event, their grandfather, Angeloah Shaw was missing for a time. He was found however, and he would 
live until 1914. These two deaths were devastating enough, but they were not the only tragedy to visit the family of John B Shaw and his wife Harriet Emma Baker Shaw. In fact, at the time of the June 4, 1890 tornado that ripped through the area, the family was already trying to recover from a prior loss.
In late 1889, Diphtheria struck the Shaw family. While vaccinations used today prevent most cases of Diphtheria, these weren’t available in days gone by, and so contracting Diphtheria could have been a death sentence, and often was. In late 1889, the John B Shaw family faced a nightmare situation, and they tried to take care of it in the best way they knew how. Unfortunately, for Ethel Ada and Myrtle Shaw, as well as many other people who contracted Diphtheria, it was not enough. Myrtle passed away on November 7, 1889 at just one year five months, and Ethel passed away on December 7, 1889 at four years nine months. These deaths would bring to a total of six the loses in the Shaw family, and four in just seven months.
Yes, I did say, six. In 1878, the family faced their first of four tragedies, and the first of a total of seven children who would die at a very young age. The first child to die of Diphtheritic Croup, was little Mabel Mary Shaw, who was nicknamed May. May died on April 15, 1878 at just three years five months. Diphtheritic Croup is a diphtheritic inflammation of the larynx. Also called laryngeal diphtheria. Basically it is a bacterial infection that causes swelling in the throat. If immediate action is not taken, the child will suffocate quickly. For the 
parents, it would be the most helpless feeling. To add to their devastation, their son John Shaw Jr would succumb to Diphtheritic Croup the very next day, April 16, 1878. John was just four years and 5 days old.
With all the deaths that hit John and Harriet between 1878 and 1890, death was still not quite done with them. While not much is known about the death of Edna Shaw, who passed away at three months eighteen days, on September 29, 1894, my guess is either sudden infant death syndrome, or another case of Diphtheritic Croup. When Aunt Sandy told me of the tragic loss of Great Grandma Stella Shaw Pattan’s little sister in the tornado, I had no idea that my research would uncover such a tragic set of circumstances. All I can say is that this family had to have been very strong, because in addition to the seven children they lost, John and Harriet raised five more, my great grandmother, Stella, as well as, Maggie, Albert, Elsie, and Orvil to adulthood.
