Two weeks ago I found myself in the southern Alabama town of Safford, population 617, for my aunt's funeral. Aunt Fannie was one of my Grandpa and Grandma Hershbergers' nine children. Her death leaves Aunt Esther as the sole surviving sibling from their family tree. It was so good to visit with Fannie's husband, Noah, and their children, my cousins, and pay our last respects to a wonderful, kind lady who never had a harsh word for anyone. Seeing all those relatives made me ponder my Hershberger roots. 

Tragedy and untimely death was no stranger to Jonas and Katie Hershberger. They had nine children in a fifteen year span, from Noah's (my dad) birth in 1929 to Amanda's arrival in 1944. They lost four of those children to premature death! That is like losing half of your family! The death of one child is inconceivable; can you imagine being a mother and burying four of your offspring?! The providence of God would certainly give you comfort, but how much can a broken heart withstand? Here is the list of the Hershberger children and their birth dates:

Noah   2/5/29

Simon   7/30/30

Sarah   1/14/32

William   4/5/33

Malinda   9/20/34

Fannie   5/3/36

Esther   7/29/38

Elmer   1/9/40

Amanda   3/4/44 

Two year old William's name was the first on a tomb stone. My Grandma had put him down for an afternoon nap, before going out to do some work in the field with the tractor. Little William crept out doors and laid down in the tall grasses beside the field and fell asleep. The wheels of the tractor rolled over him and crushed him. Oh the anguish my poor grandmother must have carried inside her heart for the rest of her life! It is truly unimaginable. 

29 year old Sarah was the next tragedy; stomach cancer claimed her life in 1961. Four years later, on a hot summer day in 1965, the baby of the family, Amanda, was killed instantly in a car accident. She was a vibrant 21 year old. A year and a half later, on a frozen January day in 1967, Jonas and Katie received a phone call informing them of the death of their eldest son, Noah. My dad was 37 years old when he drowned. 

Just writing those last two paragraphs makes my heart ache with sadness. So much grief heaped upon one family! I feel certain that my grandparents' strong faith gave them the strength to rise every morning and go on living. Like Job in the Bible, they professed, "the Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." 

As unthinkable as it seems today, losing children and young, healthy adults was common place in bygone eras. Sometimes our generation forgets the impact that antibiotics, vaccinations, and modern medicine has made on mortality. Years ago, Larry asked his 85 year old mother if she knew what the two leading causes of death were in America in 1900? Without batting an eye, she named pneumonia and tuberculosis, and she was correct. When was the last time you had a family member die of TB? My mother was a prime example of untreated childhood illness: she had rheumatic fever, which was not treated medically. The disease damaged her heart valves, which caused life long symptoms, and ultimately led to her having a stroke at age 47. 

Five of the seven children in my own family showed up in Safford several weeks ago for Aunt Fannie's funeral. In light of our family history, I think to some degree, we understand the fragility of life. Perhaps its midlife maturity, but there is a current among my siblings that makes us want to lean in together, to say "I love you", despite growing up in an emotionally stoic home where such endearing declarations were not routinely made. 

After the funeral, everyone went out to a small cemetery in a grassy area behind the church, for the graveside service. It was a blustery, cold day, unusual for March in south Alabama. Most of us were not dressed warmly enough and we started shivering as the wind whipped through us. I think my big sister, Sharon made the first move, but suddenly, all five of us siblings were standing tightly next to each other, with arms linked together. We stayed that way until the service was over. It provided physical warmth, but it also was a show of solidarity and support. It was a beautiful feeling that said, "we understand loss and we are not afraid to be vulnerable and lean on each other." We have talked about it since, the symbolic nature of our sibling graveside huddle. A funeral is a stark reminder to hold your dear ones close, that we are only promised this day. 

Two of the Hershberger sons, Noah and Simon, married sisters, Betty and Mary Gingerich, and now there are double first cousins. Sometimes its double trouble. :) These photos are from our gathering at Aunt Fannie's funeral.