On August 16, 1960, Doug and I became older brothers to Ken, the third and youngest child of our parents. I remember the day that Mom and Dad brought him home from the hospital to settle in with the rest of the family. He was a cute kid. I was 7-1/2 years or so older than Ken and Doug about 5-1/2 years his elder.
When Ken was seven years old, Auntie Lou died. Technically, she was Grandma’s cousin, but they grew up as sisters and Auntie Lou was a permanent fixture in the household once Mom was born. In fact, Mom was named Louise in honor of her aunt. That was our family’s first experience with death of a close family member. To be sure, the year before, in January, 1966, our paternal grandfather died, but we didn’t know him nearly as well as our cousins did. It was sad but didn’t impact us the way Auntie Lou’s death did.
Several years later, in March, 1972, our maternal grandfather died and that was devastating to all of us. He was the patriarch of the family and many of the life lessons that we learned were taught by Grandpa. Two years later, in March, 1974, Dad was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a form of bone narrow cancer that was pretty much a death sentence in those days. Miraculously, he loved longer than the 6 months that the doctors had given him, but Mom’s time was certainly spent taking care of Dad and the 150 fractures he sustained in his incredibly brittle rib cage. In addition, he had discs that were disintegrating and although he was one of the rare patients who went into remission, the devastation to his body was evident to all of us. He was incredibly fragile. You can see a pattern developing here – Ken experienced an unusual number of traumas for a 14 year old.
Our maternal grandmother died after a rather devastating course of Alzheimer’s in 1976 after we moved to Palatine, IL several years earlier. Ken was 16 and had just gone through a change in schools during his 8th grade year and it was clear that all the sickness, change and death was starting to take its toll on him. Mom’s folks and her aunt were all now gone and she was also caring for a husband who was terribly ill. We all were struggling with Dad’s diagnosis and subsequent treatment regimen. While Doug and I were older and probably a little more equipped to deal with the realities of what was happening, as I look back on those days, Ken was pretty much on his own with Mom’s attention devoted to Dad’s care. Clearly, Doug and I didn’t realize at the time the impact all this death and illness had on Ken. We were both attempting to process all of this ourselves.
In June, 1978, Dad passed away. Ken was 17 and Dad’s death hit all of us hard. Mon was now a widow, I was four years out of college and Doug had also finished college. We were both out of the house so Ken was left with Mom to deal with all these new realities. It was a very sad time…
Ken was clearly impacted at a very deep level from all our family tragedies. It was after the death of Dad that his own health started to deteriorate. It would be inappropriate to go into much detail here, but it was clear that Ken was impacted and Mom did her best to provide for his needs, the same job that she had done with others for the last decade. It wasn’t until 20 years later that Mom passed away after a long fight with geriatric MS.
Doug and I took over responsibility for Ken and did everything we could to make his life as easy as possible. It was a challenge. Ken insisted on living alone and we continued to support and see him whenever we could. Of course, we looked in on him, shopped for him and did everything that you would expect brothers to do. But Mom’s death had shaken him to his core.
In February, 2020, Ken’s health took a severe turn for the worse. Doug called me, we discussed options for ongoing care and made plans to get together. Unfortunately, Ken’s health plummeted and on February 29, 2020, Doug and I, in concert with the medical staff, made the difficult decision to stop the heroic efforts and release Ken into the hands of God. It was a surreal time.
Ken had a tough life. He was surrounded by sickness, misery and death – more than anyone should be subjected to. Each birthday I think of him with such fondness. And life wasn’t always easy with him. I have all three of our portraits in our hallway here in Carmel. Rather than in descending order of age, I have placed Ken between Doug and me – his guardians for so many years. We were there to protect him in every way we could.
Now Doug and I are the only ones left. Every once in while we talk about that. But on Ken’s birthday each year, I remember the day that Mom and Dad brought him home from the hospital. What a happy child he was in the early days. Those are the memories that I want to hang on to. Clearly, his life was too short. He didn’t quite make 60 years old. He would have been 66 today.
Our verse for tonight is from the 139th Psalm. The psalmist, speaking to God, tells us, in Psalm 139”15-16, “…When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”
My encouragement this evening is that we are all privileged to walk beside someone who is dear to us. In my case, as a child, it never occurred to me that I would experience all the days of Ken’s earthly life. As the oldest child, I was always expecting that I would be gone first. My prayer is that we all should live lives of kindness, service, love and with the humility of Jesus. Have a great day in the Lord, grace and peace… we love you and will see you in heaven, Ken!