December 6, 1939 - June 20, 2012

How do you encapsulate a beautiful seventy-two year life in just a few brief remarks? I’m sure others could do a far better job than I can. So I want to just touch on four things that Sheila Westra was — and in a very meaningful way, still is.

First, of course, Sheila was a daughter and a big sister — two roles she did not take lightly. Some of my fondest memories growing up were of time spent with mom’s immediate and extended family: visits to the humming little town of Howard, South Dakota; camping trips with her sisters and their families; Fourth of July celebrations in Inwood, Iowa. Seeing how much Mom truly valued her brother and sisters — and her brothers-in-law and sisters-in law and their families — makes me want to be a better brother and son and uncle.

Mom was, by any measure, a good and devoted wife. For almost fifty-two years she and Dad were at each other’s side — and yes, perhaps, sometimes at each other’s throats — through good times and bad, in sickness and in health. During Mom’s final years, the generosity and devotion of the man she chose as a husband was an inspiration to us all. If a person’s character can be judged by the choices she makes, then Mom’s choice of such a good man to be her husband — well, that’s all you really need to know about her. Seeing the tender care and compassion that Dad showed to Mom — especially during her final days and hours — has convinced me more than ever that we are indeed children of a merciful God. If my earthly father is capable of such amazing generosity and compassion — what must our heavenly Father be like?

Mom was a nurse. For her professional career, she chose to help people who were sick and vulnerable. I remember the years Mom worked at Clark Jeary Manor, seeing how much the elderly residents there genuinely loved her. One in particular — Beaulah Beaumont — was so fond of Mom that she would even walk down to our house to visit on the days Mom wasn’t working. How fitting, then, that Mom was the beneficiary of so much love and care when she was the one who was sick and vulnerable. So many people showed so much compassion: the doctors and nurses who took care of her; friends and family who called and visited; people who provided help and support to our family; priests who provided her spiritual care. Seeing so much compassion over the past few weeks — it makes me want to be a better friend to people in need.

Finally, of course, Mom was… a mom. She gave life to eight children — one of whom she knew for only a brief time in this life, but whom she must now be holding again in her arms — and was blessed to gain five other wonderful children through marriage. She then became a grandmother to thirteen beautiful grandchildren who were truly the joy of her old age. One of the happy side-effects of the unhappy experience of seeing a loved one die is that you get to share so many wonderful memories with others who shared that person’s love. I want to conclude by sharing with you a memory that has kept coming to my mind in the past three days. I don’t think I’ve ever shared this with anyone, and I don’t think it truly made sense to me until Mom died.

Mom, in her prime, was an avid bowler. Shortly after we moved from Burlington to Lincoln, when I was maybe three or four years old, Mom joined a bowling league. I remember accompanying Mom to the bowling alley, but at some point she decided to avail herself of a childcare room that the bowling alley provided for its patrons. When Mom dropped me off for childcare for the first time, I thought my idyllic world had ended. And, as petulant children are inclined to do, I threw the mother of all temper tantrums. I remember crying and crying as she turned to leave. I remember literally clinging to her as the childcare staff tried to coax me inside the room. And I remember the feeling of utter abandonment when she was gone. What sort of horrible mother would abandon her child like that? The mind of a toddler is incapable of processing things like time and separation, and it never occurred to me that our separation was only a temporary thing — that she had gone to spend some time with her friends, and that at the end of the day she’d come back for me.

After awhile, my temper tantrum burned itself out. We had some graham crackers and apple juice… we watched an Aquaman cartoon… my tears subsided… and at the end of the day, Mom came back for me. We were reunited, she scooped me up in her arms, and we went home together.

I can tell you that some four decades later, its still not easy for a boy to let go of his momma. But I’m an adult now… and more importantly, I have an adult faith. I know that as difficult as this separation is, it’s only temporary. Mom has gone to be with some of her friends for now. Eventually, the tears will subside. And I know that at the end of my days, we’ll be reunited, and she’ll take me into her arms, and we’ll go home together once more.

Sheila Ann Klotz Westra was a daughter… a sister… a nurse… a wife… a mother and grandmother… a good friend. In all that she was — and is — a teacher. Thanks, Mom, for all you’ve taught us. We love you. Goodbye — for now.

ECW 6/22/2012

Sheila Ann Westra obituary notice available here.