Tena

As this 2008 Buenting Family Reunion marks the first since the passing of my mother, Tena Willhaus, on October 26, 2006, I share this message with the family in her memory.

She loved you all SO deeply, and she is attending this and all Buenting Reunions, large and small, with a spiritual presence, joining the spirit of those of our family who have left this world for their heavenly reward.

The Buenting family connection has given all who are a part of the family  grounding in a strong and abiding faith in God, and the strength of the knowledge we share in the presence and history of our large and wide-spread family.  As the youngest of Henry and Ollie’s grandchildren, I had the benefit of a perspective of observing my aunts, uncles and cousins from a child’s perspective growing into adulthood.

Henry and Ollie had a lucky 13 children, three of whom were their daughters Anna (Annie), Tena, and Frieda.  In this reflection, I am focusing on the bond between those three strong ladies.—Many weekends of my childhood were spent traveling from my home in southern Minnesota to visit Aunt Annie and Uncle George in Rockford, Iowa or Aunt Frieda and Uncle Peter in Pomeroy, Iowa (and Grandma Ollie when she was still with us).

Aunt Annie was in my mind perpetually joyful, jolly and fun-loving.  She was quick to laugh, and quicker still to poke fun at herself or others.  She did not complain, and her attitude seemed unaffected, in spite of physical difficulty she had with walking in her later years.

My mother Tena was the thoughtful middle daughter.  She was to me caring, affectionate and adventurous.  She had the nerve, after all to with my father make the bold move to leave the known comforts of Iowa for the vast and unknown hinterland of Minnesota to pursue life outside the friendly confines of her home state

Aunt Frieda was outgoing, always helpful, mercurial, and perpetually hospitable. Even as a child I marveled, as I do today, at her marvelous ability to host many planned and unplanned family  gatherings in her home, which had been known to all of her brothers and sisters as the family farm. All were welcome there.

The connection between the three sisters was open and obvious.  To see a gathering of the three together was to know the kinship they felt for each other and the rest of the family.  They would giggle with memories of some humorous or compromising event of their growing up, share homemaking tips, and share news (good or bad) of family members.  It was amazing to me that they were able to keep all the tentacles of the family straight in their minds.  Always, the affection for each other and the love of the extended family was evident.

So it was in October, 2006, which would be Tena’s last month on this earth.  At age 88, she was living with a managed diagnosis of congestive heart failure, arthritis and maturity.  What we didn’t expect was a new diagnosis of cancer of the colon.  After some deliberation, it was decided to undergo surgery to attempt to remove the tumor that had formed.  The surgeon felt confident following the surgery that the tumor was isolated and successfully removed, but my mother was slow to respond from the anesthesia. 

During the next three days we experienced some recovery for my mother with  lucid periods for a few hours, followed by lapses back into semi-consciousness.  During those days, I spoke with Aunt Frieda, who was planning to visit her daughter and my cousin Ruth Ann in Wisconsin.  I reported my mother’s condition to her, and Aunt Frieda asked if I thought she should come to see my mother.  I responded that I thought it would greatly lift Tena’s spirits to have a visit from her, and Aunt Frieda and Ruth Ann re-routed themselves from Pomeroy to the Owatonna Hospital.

The evening before Aunt Frieda arrived there were two episodes when my mother opened her eyes for a few minutes and spoke in a confused way.  We were told that she was probably still feeling the affects of anesthesia, and to be patient for her recovery.  Aunt Frieda and Ruth Ann arrived at the hospital on the afternoon of October 25.  Shortly, after they arrived, Tena opened her eyes, took Aunt Frieda’s hand and said,  “Let’s hold hands and we’ll walk to church together.”  They were the last recognizable words that came from my mothers lips.

We were saddened to lose my mother’s earthly presence the next day.  But there was satisfaction in the knowledge of her long life, well-lived and that final exchange with be beloved sister.  Tena’s love of God and her family were there to the end, teaching us and reminding us of our lasting importance to each other.