Spritual Spinach: Death is not a closed door, but a bridge laid down by God

If you’ve ever worked with the public, then you know there are some hard-to-deal with customers.

But then are those you really like to see come in the door.

I miss some of the people who once walked through the front door of the Fremont Tribune.

Harold Bausch and his wife, Lil, were square dancers. Harold often brought in news about the Starlighters Square Dance Club. He was friendly and always had a kind word.

There was smiling Gertrude Haidley with her garden club news and Bob Morton who used to run the Cinema III Theatre on 23rd Street.

Bob, who’d bring in his little dog, liked to tell me that the Richard Pryor/Gene Wilder movie “Silver Streak” was so popular it played for 13 weeks at the theater. “Three Men and a Baby,” which starred Tom Selleck and Ted Danson, almost beat that record with 12.

I always enjoyed seeing Emil Mares. Did you know he flew a glider during the D-Day invasion of Normandy in World War II? The glider crash landed and Emil was injured, but a Polish woman, who was a forced laborer, hid him under a pile of manure, where the Nazis wouldn’t look. She kept moving Emil until she got him to the American forces at St. Mere Eglis. He then was put on a hospital ship bound for England.

Decades after the war, Emil would come to my desk with news of the Red Cross blood drives. Positive and professional, he always seemed to appreciate us putting the notices in the newspaper. Today, Dodge County’s Red Cross chapter has an award named for him.

In my own heart, Emil deserves a special tribute, because I remember how he stopped by my dad’s room at Omaha’s Clarkson Hospital. My dad was so hard of hearing �” and didn’t have his hearing aid with him �” that I had to write down what Emil was trying to say on a piece of paper and let my father read it.

Despite the communication problem, I know my dad, also a World War II veteran, was so pleased and honored to meet Emil.

There are other people who I’m probably forgetting, but I certainly would be remiss in not mentioning Dorrie Dugan.

Dorrie brought in news about Jobs Daughters. She also brought us articles about Boys and Girls State. Since there were winners and alternates from both Fremont High and Bergan Catholic schools, she’d carefully tape the students’ school photos on white cardboard with their names written underneath to prevent confusion. I don’t know how many years we ran stories about that, but I know that lots of kids have Dorrie to thank for having their photo in with the article.

Occasionally, Dorrie and I would go to lunch and she’d ask me about my work and family. She came to my wedding and once took a picture of my two sons. When my dad died, she was one of the very first people I called. Her son, Bill, owns Lattin-Dugan-Chambers Funeral Home and we made arrangements for a service in Fremont and then for my dad to be transported to western Nebraska for burial.

The day of my dad’s funeral was tough.

Dorrie and her daughter-in-law, Jane, attended my father’s Fremont service. That was nice since my dad didn’t know too many people here.

Years passed and occasionally I’d see Dorrie. I remember one afternoon when I saw Jane in a grocery store parking lot and asked how Dorrie was. She said I should just come with her and visit Dorrie right then.

I should know better, but I always seem to think I’ll have another chance. I didn’t visit Dorrie that day.

I didn’t get another chance.

That makes me sad and I hate the way that death robs us of people we care about.

Somehow, though, I think God views death a little differently than we do. I’m reminded of the verse, Psalm 116:15, which reads, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.”

In reading this verse, I picture a merciful God watching tenderly as his beloved child slips from life on this earth to life in a better place.

I think humans see death as an end, where God sees it as a beginning. We see it as a closed door. He sees it as a bridge.

Perhaps the Rev. Nathan Ennis said it best when he spoke at my dad’s funeral. He said, “Death is not a period. It’s only a comma.”

I’ve thought about that and many other things when I’ve pondered heaven and eternal life.

Now, I don’t know if heaven has a door. But I’d like to think that when I come in, I will see people I haven’t seen in a very long time �” people I’ve missed.

And just as I looked up from my work to see a friendly face come in through the Tribune’s front door, I hope that my brothers and sisters in Christ will look up and notice someone they really like �” someone who will come in and share a bit of good news with them.

Tammy McKeighan is news editor of the Fremont Tribune. She can be reached at (402) 721-5000, Ext. 1433 or via e-mail at tammy.mckeighan@lee.net.