by Steve Wolfgang
Synopsis: Saying “Goodbye” to his beloved mother, Steve shares precious memories of his parents and relates the surreal experience of organizing and attending a funeral during the coronavirus shutdown.
Jean Cowgill Wolfgang, 94, a lifelong Indianapolis resident, died March 31, 2020. She was my mother, married for 68 years to my father, James Harold Wolfgang (1922-2015).
Jean Wolfgang was born March 8, 1926, in Indianapolis to Joel and Nina (Hershberger) Cowgill. A 1944 graduate of Arsenal Technical High School, she married Jim Wolfgang on June 8, 1946, following his return from service in the U.S. Army (European Theater), 1942-45. They had met while they were students at Tech. Their wedding was solemnized by Earl West, the preacher at the Irvington church, and a friend since their high school days.
Jean was employed as an office manager by Stuart Studios in downtown Indianapolis in the 1940s. In 1959, she began working for American Fletcher National Bank, on the Circle. At the time of her retirement, she was with the Mortgage Banking division of Chase Bank. Jean was also a diligent Bible student, and participated in many group Bible studies, even in her last years at Westminster Village North.
Jim and Jean raised three children: James Stephen, John, and Janet. Mom and Dad were very active for more than sixty years at the Irvington, Emerson Avenue, and Eastside churches of Christ. Over the decades, they loved and respected the preaching of Earl West, Cecil Willis, Loren Raines, Ferrell Jenkins, L.A. Stauffer, and many other evangelists with whom they shared fellowship in the teaching of the gospel.
Mom and Dad also loved to travel, cultivating many happy memories while journeying to visit family and friends, sightseeing, and attending air shows across the country. Mom loved to cook, and together they hosted many family holidays and church gatherings. When not occupied with other activities, they could be found nightly playing along with “Jeopardy” on TV—a tradition that Mom continued even after Dad died in 2015.
Jean Wolfgang is survived by her children: two sons and their spouses, James Stephen and Bette Wolfgang, Downers Grove, IL and John, and Wendy Wolfgang, Portland, OR; and daughter and son-in-law Janet and Mike Hardin, Louisville, KY; nine grandchildren, seventeen great-grandchildren, and many nieces and nephews.
A private graveside burial service for the family was conducted on Tuesday, April 7, 2020, at Washington Park East Cemetery in Indianapolis. An open, public memorial service will be announced once travel and other restrictions related to the Coronavirus circumstances are rescinded.
Mom’s death during the COVID-19 pandemic made for unusual circumstances necessitating two Chicago-to-Indianapolis trips for Bette and myself. These allowed for some reflection on many things, and I’ll share a few impressions here.
I-65 had far fewer cars than ever before (and plenty of electronic signage reminding us to stay home except for “necessary” trips), but it was well-populated with trucks, bringing us all the stuff we have ordered on Amazon or InstaCart. The far northeast side of Indianapolis (near I-465 & I-69), usually a hive of activity and traffic jams, was almost completely deserted.
It is strangely disorienting to stay in a Hampton Inn, which has only three other rooms occupied (and one staff person). When we checked in late at night on the first trip, we increased the hotel population by 50%. The second night was crowded: triple the occupants—10 rooms occupied. Four of them were truckers (at least, there were four big rigs in the parking lot, refrigeration equipment humming).
Unfortunately, there was no breakfast area—not even coffee (by order of the Health Department—understandably). I made numerous trips foraging for food, discovering that the only food establishments consistently open, from Chicago to Indianapolis, were limited fast-food outlets. We did find that the Longhorn steakhouse my parents liked was open for carry-out.
Regarding the central purpose of our trip: trying to organize a funeral during the “present distress” is beyond weird. I realize that others in time past have faced even more challenging circumstances, but this was a bizarre experience. The audience was severely reduced: 100+ for Dad’s service only five years ago, but merely seven for Mom’s service—barely enough for pallbearers. Physical distancing: virtual fist bumps can never replace a good hug. Cellphone video of a short graveside service, shared on YouTube and Facebook, may provide some measure of closure for some, but it leaves others simply wanting “more.”
Yes, the funeral homes are active, and using “extra refrigeration,” as one funeral director put it (Read: refrigerated trucks to store the increasing number of bodies). The circumstances were unusual enough that Indiana University’s Public Broadcasting System (WTIU/PBS), a statewide television network, did a long-form feature about funerals during the COVID-19 pandemic, using footage and commentary from Mom’s funeral.
Yet, somehow, it provided a sense of relief—not just that Mom’s suffering (and frustration at being unable to speak much since her February strokes) is over. It is a relief for those of us who agonized in separation from her because of this virus—being unable to visit, or even talk much since her hand strength was not sufficient to dial or even answer her phone.
Thankfully, she was not afflicted with Coronavirus. Yet, in another sense, she was essentially taken prisoner by it due to the restrictions it caused. We were basically incommunicado for the last few weeks of her life, dependent upon helpful staff and Hospice nurses to dial her phone for her so we could speak, or occasionally see each other via Skype or FaceTime—and praying that she understood why we could not visit. Blessings upon all who cared for her during this time!
Though Mom’s assisted living facility was in lockdown with No Visitors, I was allowed to be with her, masked and gloved, for her last few hours. My daughter, Lindsay, called, and we were singing hymns with the phone to Mom’s ear when she passed.
The last thing we saw, leaving her assisted living facility after collecting her few earthly possessions, was a young couple, sitting in lawn chairs close to a window of a room in the nursing home wing, only inches apart but separated from a loved one on the other side of the pane. For many, the struggle continues. May God have mercy!
I would not wish Mom to be known for the unusual circumstances of her death—nor would she. The paramount aspect of her life—its central focus which gave meaning to all she did in raising her children and being a helper suitable to her husband, who served as an elder for nearly fifty years—was that she was a Christian, devoted to Jesus Christ.
Mom’s graveside service, which I conducted on April 7, focused on biblical concepts: the brevity and uncertainty of life—even at ninety-four it is but a vapor that appears for a little while, and then vanishes (Jas. 4:14; Ps. 144:4)—and the universality and inevitability of death (Heb. 9:22; 2 Cor. 5:11). The aging colonial preacher, Increase Mather, received a letter in his last days from an old friend who inquired if he was yet in the land of the living. “No,” replied Mather, “but I hope to go there soon, for this poor world is the land of the dying.”
At such times, amid our own grief, it is also important to be mindful of the One who is Himself a “man of sorrows, acquainted with grief” (Isa. 53:3, ESV), and to grasp the spiritual strength that can come from such occasions (Jas. 1:2-4). Finally, it is meaningful to consider the blessed hope that each of us has through Christ Jesus (1 Thess. 4:13-17; Titus 1:2; 2:11-14; 1 John 2:25).
Ultimately and overwhelmingly, I have tremendous gratitude for the gift of a mother’s love, tendered by a godly, diligent, intelligent, witty, and spiritual woman, and matched by her love for my father. May she rest in peace and rise in glory!
Author Bio: Steve has worked with the church in Downers Grove (suburban Chicago) since 2008. He and his wife, Bette, have two adult children and three grandchildren. His blog, eklektikos, can be read at stevewolfgang.wordpress.com. He can be reached at stevewolfgang@aol.com or wolf@uky.edu.
