In a very wonderful life, vigorous and competent to a very brief period with minimal suffering, my Dad went home to the reward he had been so well prepared for all his life on Saturday morning February 15, 1997 half way through his 98th year. He had talked with me only last week about his happiness to be approaching 100 with the new life about to begin in each of his four childrens' families. He would have been able to say he had lived in three centuries had he gone the distance, since he was born in the 19th century and was very much looking forward to the 21st. From the beginnning of the Boer War to Bosnia, from the horse and buggy era to the Hubble Telescope repair mission,, from his age three when Wilbur and Orville had made their audacious experiment at Kitty hawk to his son's age three when transatlantic commercial jet traffic was beginning to his grandson Donald's same age while sitting on his father's knee trying tostay awake while watching Neal Armstrong cavorting on the surface of the moon--to who knows what next at Drew Wiliam Geelhoed's 3rd birthday at the turn of the millenium and the century that Great Grandfather almost reached. He had said last month to me that he would like to live to be 100, but, then, what is so special about that number? Whom could I tell? Most of my friends and contemporaries with whom this "inside story" could be shared have already gone beyond, and teh real significance is not so much the length of our days but the significance with which we imbue them , and in that he had surpassed us all long ago.
He spoke to me of the new hope in each of the four families he had brought forth, now through four children, 12 grandchildren, and late-breaking news, 9 great-grand children. Amie Snoeyink Vredevoogd is going to have her first baby, and Shirley's fourth grand child around May 5; at almost the same time, Kathie Schramek Geelhoed will be (close to her birthday) delivering namesake Drew William, the first Geelhoed grandchild and the first for Grandpa Glenn; Brrenda Holtvluwer VanderPloeg is due in mid-July, again a first grandchild for Doug and Milly, and on the same day as we were carrying my Dad from the Zaagman Funeral Home in procession to Woodlawn Cemetary, one of the 9 pallbearers of the present grandchildren (Jack, Donald William and Michael being at home), Tom Griffioen left directly from Woodlawn Cemetary to go with Sherri to the doctor to hear for the first tiime the wonderfully reassuring beat at 152 times per minute the arrival knock of the newest of their now three children and Martheen and Don's grandchildren--a Great Grand Slam for Great-Grandpa!
So, we had gathered for a celebration of life--at Woodlawn Cemetary--not only the wonderful life of a brother, father, grandfather and represented by Austen Brett in his snowsuit at the gravesite, great-grandfather, of William Geelhoed's life; but also of the life to which he had given a start; and particularly a witness to the eternal life for which the whole of his life was a testament. Twenty years before, we had been at the same site, where Donald and Michael had stood with me as their grandmother and my Mom was laid to rest, now joined by their grandfather and my Dad, under the same head stone that he had furnished as long as a quarter of that century ago.
At the wake in the funeral home I was once again overwhelmed by the large number of relatives and friends and their stories about the influence of my Dad's life in theirs also. On such short notice as the highly compressed morbidity of a week of abrupt change in his life would permit, and the single obituary notice in the newspaper, along with the announcement from a score of pulpits thoughout the area, scores of family that I had not seen since Mom died or since the 95th birthday party for Dad came from the community, family, churches, schools and the fabric of the life he had led that had touched so many others. Let me give you a few examples of these around a general theme of education in which he had encouraged many. It is a story of a remarkable life, an archetype of the "American century" and a loving Christian man whose convictions were the first and last words to be said .
My Mom's sister Tean came to see us, age 94 and very alert as ever; her "younger" brother, Sid drove over through the snow, age 92, to crack jokes with those who had been his "victims" as a high school civics teacher (I among them). My Dad and his wife were with the family of my Mom in a photo at the Broodman cottage taken in the summer of 1993--of the ten in the first row, only Tean and Jack are alive today, and almost all those who were standing behind them in the later generations came to pay respects.
My Dad's sister Betty was there, and sister Ann was back at the Sunset Manor they had each lived in for the last few years, but Betty, though otherwise healthy, has a five minute recent memory span, so I would reintroduce myslef to her repeatedly, and Ann is lying near death from a very painful malignant disease according to her daughter Jean who talkede with me at length. Each of these two individuals would be very lonely were it not for the continuing very gracious efforts of the one person who could best serve as the example of my generation--Stewart Geelhood.
Stewart is the oldest child of the kindred of my Dad's siblings, in fact he is 80--the eldest of the vintage which would have me representing the other endge of that age spectrum. He has invested enormous efforts in the continuing care of the survivors of his father's generation. He told us that he had come to see Uncle Bill in getting advice on what he wanted to do later in life. This was in Depression Era middle America, and all he wanted was ome way out of the grinding poverty that had afflicted all of that era. He had want4ed to go into business, and start as soon as he could to accomplish that, and my Dad, who was forced by the circumstances of the era to forego some educational opportunities he esteemed so highly in order to suypport the family, somehow got his hands on the Calvin College Prism, and gave it to Stewart, and had said, "Whatever you do, graduate from College--this Calvin College". Stewart did--the very first in the family college graduate, and went on to be a very successful businesman in KVP and other very infulential positions from which he retired to sit on the boards of multiple educational institutions--and to never forget the generation before him whom he has tended to so carefully. Bonnie Geelhood, my recent Africanist and Kilimanjaro climbing associate, is his granddaughter, and will be the second doctor after me to carry the name. The second college graduate after a 25 year gap was my sister Martheen, and she did not stop there either. Nor did the educational priority, as we will point out as we filter through my generation and the next.
In came Joe Geelhoed, looking like the very image of the brother who was lying down behind him, but in full possession of the vibrant health that has characterized the both of them. We talked at length and he insisted that he would be coming with us to the commital, and di, sitting beside me in the front row. He invited me to come out to visit with him in Holland when I return for the Memorial Service in two weeks.
Millie has carried the bulk of the burden in caring for Dad, living closest in Jenison and visiting him daily. Doug has done very wonderful work in carrying the affairs of the sort Dad had just turned over to him officially at the time of our Christmastime reunion in Grnad Rapids--from which I brought along the memories and photographs for this visit. Dad had set down a list of those things he wished to do in priorities for gifts--I noticed that of the resiodents in Sunset Manor, those who were in any way neglected were the special targets of memorial gifts from one "WG"--15 of these separate gifts in all. But each of the children, all of the grand children and especially all the greatgrandchildren were remembered for their birthdays of which he kept careful record, and a special gift was made to each for weddings or new births.
Now about Millie, these are very eventful times for her, and also for Doug. Doug's business is going very well, having recovered remarkably from a very treacherous sabotage and turned around on hard work to now occupy the whole of the building to which I have been brought to type these lines. But that is not all that is going on.
This week is the funeral and in two weeks the Memorial Service which she and Doug had to handle nearly solo. Then comes a college graduation, as their yongest sone Mark will be graduating from Calvin College in May. On June 21 their second daughter Gwen is getting married to Troy, which event was notified in the newspaper only shortly before her father's obituary. Then follows the birth of their first grandchild with Brenda in July; immediately after that is Gwen's graduation with a Masters degree from Grand Valley State University, where Millie continues as a full time librarian.
Arnie and Shirley are in Hawaii, their first visit there to celebrate their 40th anniversary and retirement. They were well represented by Donald Brett and Karen, and their perfectly behaved son Austen Brett who had played so happily with his great grandfather at Christmas time and now was winess to the fulfillment of that life which will be passed along. Amie Snoeyink and Kent were especially helpful in Grandfather's last days since she works with geriatric rehabilitation, and could do things in an understanding way to be supportive. And Amie Vredevoogd is cheerfully blossoming forward to that new event in summer, as Criag took tactful videos to save for Shirley who had called from Hawaii, knowing she had said her farewell on her father's best good days before the end.
Martheen and Don arived after they had handled the service in their Chicago Church in the morning and drove up from Chicago to arrive at Zaagman's Funeral home during the Sunday wake. As always, the family ministers are called upon to officiate at events of this sort even when thier own grief must be caried along for later. They di it splendidly, especially the passages Martheen joined in reciting over her father's coffin at the family plot as Don and Dad's minister Rev. Personairre (with whom I had worked when he was a missionary in Nigeria in 1968) led the commital service. We went to dinner afterwards as David (who had come up from the University of Indiana right after completing his PhD comprehensive exams in musicology) left for Indiana and Tom went with Sherri to get the good news of new life as we laid to rest a person very important to them and their children--it was Drew and Aubrey who were at Great Grandpa's bedside at the last moments squeezing his hands, and Tom's and their names were among his last words. We joined with them all in Belding at Tom and Sherri's small farm for the evening after these events. Cheryl and I promised to go running together just after the first anniversary of her running was celebrated. She has begun her new job as parole officer and is enjoying it in Grand Rapids., and will miss her grandpa whom she visited often.
Of all the travels I have done and places I have gone, some are more important than others and are for better purposes. Both I--and my father--were very happy that this event did not occur when I was in some part of the world from which I could not get here, and all the things that might have interfered were cleared away. The American Airline strike at midnight was cleared by Presidential decree in time for me to get an American flight to Chicago and an American Eagle flight to Grand Rapids. If there is one holiday that George Washington University would be sure to celebrate, it would be the President's day named for its namesake. I had called Michael and Donald in time for each of them to talk with their grandfather for the final tiem and relayed the words he had given me for them.
Oftentimes at a death, the grieving family might often have regrets at not having said or done something they might have, or they can shake their fist at the sky and say "But we were not ready for this!" No one could ever have been more prepared thatn my father, and there were no loving words left unsiad or final wishes left undone to the degree that can ever happen in an imperfect lfe. Both my Dad and I knew during our last talks that we were privilieged to have these moments and used them well. Shirl was able to say goodbye. Dad was most prepared of us all, and could teach us a lesson in how to live to be ready for the one sure part of life.
Donald and Michael are checking their availability for the Memorial Service set up for the 1st of March at Sunset where his friends are going to be gathering from all over. He was a loving and well loved man, and remembered them all before his departure, as many are now asking to remember him in coming back together following it.
For a family that could do no more than get their children to eighth grade level, if that far, during the Great Depression, my family insisted on education as an enriching personal enhancement, every bit as much as the strong religious perspective that they had exemplified. The novel experiment of having Stewart graduated from college (and that not even to become a dominee!) has continued throughout the family. That second college degree, it should be pointed out, was followed by the first female graduate to complete the Calvin Seminary--the both degrees held by the same person, my sister Martheen, of whom I am very proud. Of Dad's four children, each graduated not only from college, but each have graduate degrees in advanced studies (and one, at least, who just did not know when to quit!)
And the Grand Kids! Well, I hope they will set a new curve, since they are still working on it now Mark will be the latest to keep this ball arollin'.
So, it is a sad time--as I think that I am now nobody's son. But how much happier could we be in any such event as to celebrate the life and example of our Dad. It was not he who was laid to rest in the plot beneath the stone in Woodlawn, that he had set up so long ago to avoid having someone forced to fuss over him, so that those simple and dignified details would be settled in advance according to his simple and respectful wishes. As Martheen said at Christmas time when he said a tearful farewell since he said he was not sure that he would live to see another Christmas to share with all of us "But we know where you will be.," and then at the graveside, "we do not want him back from where he is now." We will miss him, but now we are going to have to be the example he has been. He had a long and very well lived life, learning something new each day, diligently pumping his bicycle up to two weeks ago, making notes and records of the wonders of life in big or little events that surrounded him every day (and you wanted to know where I picked this up? Having just sorted through some of his effects with Doug and Millie, I find the experience touching but also I may have to take pity on those sons who follow me through the unending records of "Wonderful Life"!) and contributing a lot to all those around him in Sunset, the famly, the church, the community. He was the first to have a Model A in Western Michigan, the first in the area to have a television (and also the first to insist that the doors in front of the tube be closed on Sundays), first in the hearts of his family, as he and our mother were in ours. He is not resting in peace. As Millie said to Michael by phone when I had called Texas from Jenison, she can see him in heaven running full speed through the wonders of all the beauty and the flowers, and at last will have enough to feed the desire for learning forever. And as Kent Snoyink said: "He will have three wives to dance with in heaven", as I would have to add, he will have to learn all his dancing up there, since he would not have picked it up around here (and Millie added "and Mom would be there waiting without limping")--and I would caution "He would still wear each of them out!"
My Dad--yours also, and Grand Dad, and Great Grand Dad--I will miss him. But, go now, and do likewise, but better still! You will have a hard model to follow, but it will be worth it with a heavenly reward!
Son (the last time) Glenn
Jenison, February 18, 1997