Prior to her death, Jenny seemed to be in good health. However, during her pregnancy with Samuel, the doctors detected an irregularity in her heartbeat that concerned them. They wanted to run a series of X-Rays and do some other tests but decided to wait until after delivery of the baby. Her pregnancy went full term, and a healthy Samuel was born on 20 October 1983. Labor and Delivery, however, was a different story!
Very early on the morning of October 19th, and feeling that her time was near, Jenny had me driver her to the hospital for an examination. At the exam, the doctor discovered that she was dilated to about 4 or 5 cm, so he decided to admit her to the Labor and Delivery unit at the hospital. Then the waiting began. Jenny’s condition seemed to stay stable at about 5 cm for the next 18 hours or so, with sometimes very hard contractions. I remember it being very hard on her and she became increasingly distressed. She often cried in despair and begged to have it over. But the doctors just continued to monitor her. At about midnight on the 19th (after a very long and agonizing day), while she was apparently resting, Jenny suddenly awoke, sat up with a loud cry and then collapsed motionless on her bed. Her vital signs monitor began sounding an alarm and doctors and nurses came running. I was asked to leave the room and I just waited outside the door. Several people ran in and out of the room. Then, after about 30 minutes, the medical personnel just came walking out of the room. The doctor came to me and said something like “I don’t know what happened in there. I didn’t do anything, but she seems to be alright now.”
It was another five (5) hours or so before Samuel was born. I stayed with Jenny until the doctors announced that “the baby had turned” and was in distress, so they decided to deliver Samuel by cesarean. After all that pain and waiting, the doctors decided to skip a normal delivery and take the baby. They rushed Jenny down the hall, and within half an hour, Samuel was born strong and health. Jenny was very sore and exhausted, but she was so very happy to get the ordeal over and hold her sweet newborn baby boy in her arms.
Several weeks later, Jenny confided in me about an experience she had during labor. At midnight on the 19th, when all the alarms went off, she had had an out of body experience. She said she felt she was in the upper corner of the hospital room looking back down on the doctors as they labored to save “someone” in the bed. She added that she then realized that it was her body they were working on. She remembered pleading in prayer that she would be allowed to live long enough to raise her new baby until he was old enough for her husband (me) to take care of him. The next thing she recalled was being in the bed again waiting for the delivery of her baby. Over the next few months, Jenny became less clear on the specific events of that night in the delivery room. She nursed Samuel, caring and bonding with him.
Jenny had several doctors’ appointments after Samuel’s birth. We went from one specialist to another evaluating her irregular heartbeat, but no one ever had a positive diagnosis. They simply referred us from one specialist to another specialist and then to yet another. Jenny became very frustrated with all the appointments. She felt well enough and didn’t think the tests were necessary. However, I insisted that she see the doctors. I remember telling her that if her problem was serious “…we would never forgive ourselves.” She agreed to continue in search of a diagnosis.
Incidentally, sometime in March 1984, our family was asked to sing a favorite family hymn in our Ward Sacrament Meeting. Jenny chose “Families Can Be Together Forever,” Hymn #300 in the L.D.S Hymn Book. We practiced several times at home, and I thought I nailed it. Come Sunday, Jenny and the children sang beautifully. But I’m pretty sure I sounded horrible. I remember, it was a struggle holding back my emotions …and, singing at the same time. I think we must have been joined by angels, and they were able to drown out my blubbering. Regardless, no one complained.
One of Jenny’s last appointments was in early April 1984 with Nuclear Medicine. She arrived early because they had to “prep” her. First, she had to remove all her clothing and lay flat on her back on a cold marble surface/table …with just a white sheet covering her. She was then given injections and made to lay there for nearly an hour before a technician announced, “the machine is broken” and she would have to come back in two weeks. The technician also told her that if she was nursing, she would have to wait three to four weeks before she could resume nursing again because of the substance they injected into her veins. Jenny was livid. Under the circumstances, she was no longer able to nurse Samuel and would have to bottle feed him. Jenny was very upset and frustrated.
Jenny’s last doctor’s appointment was on Thursday (April 5th), prior to her death. I had to work that day and she was going to go by herself. Later in the day, I called to see how her appointment went and she told me she cancelled it. She said she “…felt fine.” I was very upset and left work to go home and talk to her. We talked for a while, and she explained that she didn’t want any more tests. She said she felt fine and thought the tests were a waste of time. I wasn’t so sure, so I convinced her to see a friend of ours who was a General Practice Family Doctor. I thought Jenny could describe everything to him, and if he felt it was a waste of time, then okay. Otherwise, she should resume her appointments. We made an appointment with our doctor friend for Tuesday, April 10th.
The weekend Jenny died started out wonderfully. Saturday night was great. We went to Seminary Graduation (I was the Stake Seminary Coordinator) and we took little Samuel with us. After the graduation ceremony, the youth had a dance. Jenny, Samuel, and I danced together most of the evening; just the three of us in each other’s arms. The next day was High Council Sunday. Our friend, Mike O’Connell, was the speaker in Sacrament meeting. After church, he and his wife Edith came over to our apartment and we had a great meal and evening together. We lived in U.S. Air Force housing at Ramstein Air Base (Bldg. 420 C-4), West Germany.
However, things changed on Sunday evening. Jenny’s death occurred at about 10:15 PM (Sunday, 8 April 1984). Earlier in the evening, she had been reading the Ensign magazine, and I had been working on our family finances. We went to bed at about 10 PM. We had our prayer together which she offered. It was short and simple, unlike her usual longer prayers. Afterwards, we said our personal prayers. Here too, her personal prayer was unusually short. We then climbed into bed; I set the alarm clock (I remember it read 10:13 PM) and turned off the lights. Jenny seemed very quiet and pensive. It was dark in the room, but I could see her silhouette in the moonlight or streetlight reflecting through the window. She wasn’t saying anything, so I began to rehearse for her the status of our finances as I had been working on them earlier. We had only been in bed for a few minutes when Jenny suddenly sat up as if to get out of bed. Then, almost instantly, she collapsed back onto the bed and began trembling and apparently gasping for air.
I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t respond. I jumped out of bed, turned the lights on and saw that she was struggling as if to breath. I kept trying to talk to her, but she wouldn’t or couldn’t respond. I began attempting mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and continued for what seemed about four or five minutes. Suddenly, her whole body went limp, and I knew I needed help. I went to the phone and called the Ramstein Clinic emergency desk and told them “my wife wasn’t breathing.” I then went back to help Jenny.
When I got back to her, I thought I saw life, so I began my resuscitation efforts again. After a few minutes, the paramedics arrived pounding on the door (I forgot to unlock it) and I ran to let them in. Several men came into our apartment, and I directed them back to our bedroom. They went straight to work on Jenny, and I was told to leave the room. With all their noisy equipment (plus their emergency vehicles and heavy boots), it wasn’t long before the children began to wake up and ask what was going on. I told them “Mom is sick, and the doctors are here to help her,” and I told them to go back into their rooms. A few minutes later, while I was standing alone in the living room, the phone rang. On the other end of the line was my Bishop (Scott Worthington) calling to see if we were all right. I told him “no Bishop, something’s wrong with Jenny.” Bishop Worthington came right over to the apartment to be with me.
After about 30 minutes (one paramedic ran into our kitchen and threw up in the sink), the paramedics decided to transport Jenny to the U.S. Army Hospital at Landstuhl, West Germany (15 minutes away). Our neighbors (the Blakes) came and stayed with the kids while Bishop Worthington and I followed the ambulance. We were in the Emergency Room for about two hours before the Administrator called me into his office to officially notify me about Jenny’s death. I’ll always remember what he said, “was that your wife?” Until that moment, I hadn’t imagined that Jenny would die. But, when the Administrator asked, “was that your wife,” I broke down and began to cry. A few minutes later, Brother Dean Harmer, a member of our stake presidency and, coincidentally, the medical-officer-on-call that night at the hospital, came in to the room. At first, Dean didn’t say anything; he just walked in crying and put his arms around me. For the past year, Jenny had served faithfully as the Stake Primary President and had worked closely with Dean. We had all become very close friends. That night, sadly, it was Dean’s duty to assist me with the difficult task of filling out the statement of Jenny’s death. I know he was also there on assignment from the Lord.
Afterwards, Bishop Worthington and I spend a few moments alone with Jenny’s body and then we returned home to tell the children. When we got to our apartment door, Bishop Worthington put his arm around me, and I took a big breath for courage. I knew I had to be strong for the children and that I couldn’t back down. When we walked in, Heather and Melissa were both standing in the living room with the neighbors waiting to see about their mother. Melissa was the youngest and most fragile of the two, so I walked directly to her, put my arms around her and said to both Heather and Melissa, “Mom is with our Heavenly Father.” We all cried, and it seems like the crying continued for several days. I can’t really describe our emotions.
Our friends Rick and Janelle LaFontaine moved in with us that night and stayed until we left Germany three days later (they also drove us to the Frankfurt Airport). With the help of Rick, Steve Meyer (my friend at work) and Bishop Worthington, I completed all out-processing affairs and the children and I, with Steve Meyer as escort, were on a Wednesday (11 Apr 1984) morning flight from Frankfurt to Salt Lake City via New York. In New York, we were met at the airport by Brother and Sister Dave Brown, the father-in-law and mother-in-law to Charles Castleberry (Jenny’s brother). In Salt Lake City, there were about 30 or more people to meet our flight including: both my Mother and Father, all four of my sisters and all their children, my brother John and his family, and Jenny’s mother and all her brothers and sisters with their families. It was a sad (and happy) day. My friend Steve Meyer stayed with us until after the funeral on Saturday (April 14th). During the week, he busied himself making all the arrangements for my assignment transfer to Hill AFB, Utah.
Jenny’s funeral services were held Saturday (April 14th), at the Bountiful Lindquist Mortuary. The services were arranged and conducted by Bishop Edgar Drake (former bishop of the Bountiful 18th Ward). Jenny’s sister Eve and her brother Russell were the speakers at the service. Jenny was buried in the Memorial Estates Cemetery (plot 45-A-3), high on the “bench” overlooking Bountiful. I gave the prayer dedicating Jenny’s grave for the protection of her human remains until her glorious Resurrection on that great day. After the services, the Bountiful 18th Ward Relief Society provided a luncheon for our family and guests in the cultural hall of the 18th Ward building.
The next morning, the children and I dressed and walked to the Bountiful 9th Ward building to attend Sabbath meetings in our new ward. All this happened in less than one week. On the previous Saturday, Jenny and I were having a wonderful time dancing together at the stake seminary graduation dance in Kaiserslautern, Germany. In just a few short days, my life had been altered dramatically. However, my testimony of the gospel and of the atonement is stronger than ever. I know that the woman I’ve loved so much and have shared so much with could not just cease to exist at death. And the spirit confirms this to me. She is still alive in spirit and our family will be together again and forever.
Jenny and I were happily married for a wonderful 14 years and 51 weeks before her sudden and untimely death on 8 April 1984, at Ramstein AB, West Germany. She loved me and I loved her (I still do). She followed me around the world on several Air Forces assignments. She gave birth to our seven (7) wonderful children (although she always wanted to have eight). Throughout our marriage, Jenny was a stay-at-home Mom caring for our children. In addition to caring for the children, she cared for me. She followed me when I moved to England; she supported me while I was away for a one-year assignment in the Viet Nam War; after that, we shared a “Rest and Recreation (R&R)” tour together in Hawaii; she followed me again back to Europe; and, when I decided to get out of the service and go back to the university, she continued to support me and care for the needs of our growing family (at that time: five children) while I studied. After graduation, Jenny continued to support me when we returned to Europe for our Final European Tour together. Jenny was always a loving mother, a faithful wife, and loving companion. And she is missed.
By Scott A. Edgar
Click HERE to return to Writings of and about Jenny