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Jeff Wombacher chased away an imaginary bear his granddaughter found hiding in the closet.
In 1944, he navigated Air Force bombers on missions to help destroy a world’s enemy.
And in his final days, Jeff taught his entire family--sons, daughters, grandsons, granddaughters and great-grandchildren to guide his body into the "simplicity of its fate".
To know Jeff Wombacher is to know his family--his wife and soul-mate, Ina, whom he has known since she was 11, tells you how with a wink and a nod from his bed, Jeff asks her for a kiss. You know Jeff through his daughters, Cindi and Tammy, as they tell you he was never left alone in his room, someone from the family was always present, speaking to him, gently stroking his arm. You understand Jeff’s love for music through his granddaughter Halley, who along with her cousins, sang his favorite songs as he quietly left them that day--Thursday, that month--July, that year--2000. We often do not know the importance of a touch, a sound, a smell, until we become like that person we love. When our friend, or our husband, our wife or our child is dying, we are intensely and intimately connected to them. We cannot speak, we simply act. As one daughter or son would release their hold on Jeff’s hand, during that last week of his life, another was ready to take it. Each grandchild had a job to do in caring for Jeff. Jacob helped to turn him each hour to make certain his lungs were clear and his blood could circulate. All were alternately singing, talking, touching. His grandson Cody even went to the store for Jeff’s last scoop of Heyn’s ice cream. "Grandpa loved soup, the color brown, and he loved ice cream. He used to gather all of us kids up at 9 or 10 at night, when everyone else’s grandparents would be sleeping, and take us out for ice cream. He was very special."--writes his granddaughter Carissa. "I think everyone wants to be able to die in their own home around the people they love" says the 13 year old Chase, who insisted on sleeping in the room with Grandpa Jeff the night before his death. "Our grandchildren and great-grandchildren will grow up not being afraid of death. They were here as Jeff died. While we waited for our son to arrive, the children drew pictures and placed them on Jeff’s lap so that he could take them to heaven with him." How did they know? How is it possible that all six children, 23 grandchildren and 12 great-grandchildren saw that "elusive coming alive from within" in this man in this very last week of his life? In the fall of 2002, Ina and all six of the Wombacher children including their extended families gathered to plant Jeff’s favorite tree in a place they were certain to always find it--right in front of the Regina Education Center in Iowa City. A young blue spruce adorned by the pre-schoolers with pine cones covered in peanut butter and seeds, and orange slices for the winter birds to feed. How could they have known Jeff’s seven year old great-grandson had two years earlier asked the house painter to paint goldfinches on the wall of his Ames home, because that was his "Grandpa Jeff’s favorite bird"? This family has learned what it means to grow at the end of a life--to be witness to and present in the "important privilege of caring for Jeff", as Ina Wombacher put it. Jake Wombacher knows. "We could never have been there all the time, if Grandpa had been in the hospital. There were just too many of us" In those final days Jeff tells his family he needs to get ready, there is a car waiting for him. He begins to speak a language they have never heard. But they listen, all of them--through the phone, the room monitors, watching Jeff’s silent face as he squeezes their hand. He opened up a window for all of them to look through again and again. They continue to visit that landscape full of memories: to see the trips they took together, to see Grandpa running backwards to lose the race, to watch him searching for hidden slippers to their great delight and, to see Missy, his dog, doing tricks on his belly while he lies on the hospital bed in the den. "I feel lucky I was part of that final time with Grandpa," says Halley. "It was really sad, but I learned so much. It was the best experience of my life." Ralph Francis "Jeff" Wombacher was born January 16, 1916 in Hills Iowa. He paid his way through University High School in Iowa City and was captain of the football team his senior year. He earned the Distinguished Flying Cross for valor as an Air Force navigator in 1943-1945. He worked for Sears Roebuck selling appliances and owned Jeff’s Music. He and Ina were married for 60 years. It is in memory of Jeff Wombacher, that this year’s honorary family for the third annual Iowa City Hospice Walk for Dignity include Jeff’s wife Ina, their six children: Tammy, Jeffry, Cindi, Mikel, David and Susan, their 23 grandchildren and their 12 great-grandchildren. |