'Til Death Us Do Part

It was the saddest thing I'd experienced in a long time,

so I grabbed my camera to document what

'til death us do part really looks like.

My Dad watched as the funeral director's van was driving away;

when she noticed him at his screen door, she stopped, got out,

and called back kindly to him, "Don't worry, I'll be careful."

So much of this month is a blur, but this picture

will be seared onto my heart forever.

I'm so honored to have been right there

with Dad, holding Flo's other hand,

and singing to her with him

when she took her last breath.

For the better part of 40 years,

it was always Bob and Flo. 

Not Bob.

And Flo.

Never just Bob.

Or just Flo.

Nope. They were a package deal.

Bob and Flo took 

the two shall become one

very seriously

back in 1986,

when the Pastor 

said it was so.

Technically, they saved one another;

she was widowed at a young age

and he was divorced and alone.

Drawn to the same Lay Ministry program,

the two started palling around, then

got engaged, and married.

They traveled around working in churches,

in CA, in FL, in WI, a two-for-one deal,

he a parish administrator,

she the church secretary,

then building with Laborers for Christ

wherever they were called.

Even in retirement, if he went to town,

she was going along in the passenger seat.

To keep him company.

His right hand.

His co-pilot.

His love. 

Their mornings began with devotions

side-by-side in their recliners ...

... this is the essence of Flo ...

a Portals of Prayer in her hands,

a Bible in her lap, ready to read to Dad.

It was hard to encapsulate in her obituary,

how caring, compassionate and kind she was. 

At the funeral, we heard over and over again

how much people were going to miss 

her endearing smile,

her sweet greeting cards, 

her infectious giggle.

So how do we participate in grief?

First, Dad made these frames for the funeral.

Then he made a cross from Nebraska cedar for inside the casket.

I put together this tree from some of her treasures,

as a surprise for his 88th birthday in April.

I also bought a fun book that looks perfect for them.

Turns out it's a series, but in this opener, Bob steals Flo's bucket,

which sounds like something that Dad would do (for fun),

and Flo doesn't fuss, she just calls it "our bucket"

and decides to share with him. (giggle, giggle)

Seriously, they were just that cute together.

I've also been posting on my Facebook page;

I find it really therapeutic to share our story.

Together truly was their favorite place to be.

And now that death has parted them,

Dad is alone again and taking life

one breath at a time,

one moment at a time,

one day at a time.

He said on the phone this morning, through tears, that his new plan is for me to take all of the sweet sentiments about Flo that people have written or said and put them into a book. I have that blank journal ready to go back to WI with me in March.

Oh, and, in case you feel called to send Robert Natzke a note:

8212 County Rd. W, Wayside, WI, 54126

Tell him Barb told you how much he likes mail. 💚

What does your ideal 'til death do us part story look like?