Saturday, May 11, 2013
One Last Drive With Dad
The view from Hilltop Road south of Fond du Lac looks out to the west, over the rolling hills where my Dad will be buried at sunset today. Just two weeks ago, on a Thursday afternoon, Dad and I took a ride around the neighborhood in my Chevy Volt. We drove up Kelley Road, past Sam and Irene's house. Sam is Dad's cousin. Many, many years ago, my mom and dad were the matchmakers for Sam and Irene, way back in those dating years of the 1940's.
We drove the neighborhood roads that day. Past Dad's home farm, past the new dairy barns where my cousin Howard's son is the sixth generation to milk cows. We looked for the octagon house that Roy Bosserman built in his retirement years. Roy was the pastor who married and baptized some of us kids. I always said that on my wedding day I wanted my Dad to be my Dad, not my pastor, so Roy (I rarely called him Rev. Bosserman) got tapped for clerical duties.
The house that Roy built is on Super Road which leads through the hills of the Kettle Moraine into the European looking village of Ashford. Then we headed back north, past the home farm, again, talking of my cousin Howard and the house on the hill where Mom and Dad lived when they were first married.
Ebenezer Cemetery, at Elwood Corners, is where my Dad's ashes will be buried this evening. My Mother's grave maker is a stone garden bench, engraved with the names of all nine of us -- parents and seven children. We looked for Mom's bench as we drove by, just like we always do.
When we got back to the farm, we drove up the lane. I had been walking up there and knew that the two track lane was firm enough for a drive. I wanted Dad to see some of the back of the farm. He admired the barn as we came south on the lane, back toward the farmstead's buildings. "Look at the barn. It looks good," was the kind of comment that he made that day.
So, today, there will be one more drive for Dad into the countryside around Lomira. And, tonight, a burial. A tough time, a tender time. One last drive with Dad.
Wanda Hayes Eichler