Reflections Upon a Blessed and Exciting Life – No.11: Early Experience With Death

Death and dying were certainly not far removed or never spoken about in my early life. After all, my home (a congregation –owned “teacherage”) abutted the church cemetery, a couple of hundred steps from our front yard. From very early in my life I watched the volunteer grave diggers; I went with Dad who tolled the funeral bells; I watched the earth being dropped upon the in-grave coffins as the pastor “intoned” dust to dust, ashes to ashes.”

The death of animals in front of my eyes was a regular event. Mother killed fryers for dinner; hogs were slaughtered for ham and sausages. Our heifers were always sent away for butchering. I was still in elementary school when I assisted my cousin Ben Jacob in his weekly ritual of butchering cattle. Fresh beef was always available in their Andice General Merchandise Store.

Two animal deaths did disturb me. I was so sad when my father needed to shoot to death my beloved pet dog, Rover. Rover had been bitten by a poisonous snake. The bite around Rover’s mouth became terribly infected. Rover could not eat. Seeing a vet was never considered. The bite looked fatal and besides we had no money for vet costs. So Dad shot, killed and buried Rover, the closest pet I ever owned.

The second instance was a pet lamb whose name I cannot remember. We played with it from its infancy. Then came time for it to be butchered, but I could not get myself to eat the meat.

The third recollection relates to a near-death (but no death) experience. Some of my relatives were visiting and showing off their newly acquired 22 long-range rifle. They spotted a near-by bird and gave me instructions on how to aim, fire and kill that beautiful meadowlark, head held high and singing. I missed and I was glad! In that moment I resolved to never again fire a gun at a bird and I have kept that promise.

I am amazed that I claim to have a memory of when I was only 3 ½ years old, but I think it is a real memory. My cousin Milton Kurio who lived only a mile away died at the age of only 10 months. My memory is of overwhelming sadness seeing that miniature coffin being lowered into the ground.

The other strong memory is when I was 5 years old and being told of the untimely death of my cousin Ben Siek who was also 5 years of age. Uncle Ben (young Ben’s father) and Aunt Elizabeth had just had electricity installed in their Austin home. They joyfully replaced the old icebox with a new electric refrigerator. The icebox was awaiting pick-up for disposal. Cousins Helen and Ben were curious. They climbed into the old icebox, Helen in the ice storage side and Ben in the food storage side. We never learned how both doors became slammed shut. By the time frantic Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Ben found their trapped children both were unconscious. Helen survived, apparently because some life-saving oxygen worked its way up the ice drainage pipe but Bennie was beyond recovery. I had played with Bennie just days before his tragic death. Sadly 15 months later Uncle Ben died and I remember the faith, courage and strength with which Aunt Elizabeth and Cousin Helen carried on after those shattering experiences.

Of course, in the years since these early encounters with death I have been at the bedside of many deaths, have presided over burials ranging from Forest Lawn in Glendale, California to hillsides in Hong Kong to burial at sea in the Pacific. My childhood images of heaven and the after-life have changed in many ways. I continue to marvel at the mysteries of eternal life and I am confident in my trust in a benevolent God and confident that peace is what yet awaits us all.