We left the hospital to go home to our other children. Frank and I were both in shock, still not understanding the magnitude of what had just occurred. We carried a balloon she received the day before from her brothers and sisters. It left our hands and launched into the clear night sky. We stood transfixed as it soared.
“Goodbye, Jenny, ‘till we meet again.”The ride to Marysville was long and quiet as we each shrouded ourselves inside our private grief.
The next morning we quietly and without fanfare, called each child into our bedroom one at a time. It was heart-wrenching all over again to witness THEIR grief and disbelief. Word spread quickly throughout the neighborhood and to church members. We had visits from close friends. They offered assistance and emotional support. The Relief Society president organized meals to be brought in for the next few weeks. It was a relief not to worry about meals.
We focused our efforts on the funeral. It was held seven days after her death to allow family from Oregon to make the trip to Washington. Floyd Finnegan, our Home Teacher and good friend, helped us purchase shoes and other things for Jenny to wear in the casket. Georgia Daniels, our family hair stylist, styled her hair in the funeral home.
“Flying Free” was sung at the funeral.
There is a place I call my own
Where I can stand by the sea
And look beyond the things I’ve known
And think that I might be free.
Like that bird upon the wing
Life has taught me how to sing
I wish that all my life could be like a bird and flying free.
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