Smitty's Death

Please bear with me if you're reading this post.  It contains a record of events surrounding the death this week of my brother-in-law.  It's my way of processing things, but it won't all be pleasant reading, and you need not apologize for skipping this.

On Monday night, as Wyatt and I were getting ready to head home after a stargazing party with my little nature walk group, Shane heard via phone that Smitty had been badly burned and was taken to a Wichita hospital.  A member of the Sterling police department is a friend of Grant's, and after he responded to the 911 call, he notified Grant, apparently with the family's knowledge and approval.

Hiromi's older sister Chee (full name, Chizuko) married Smitty 65 years ago in Japan.  He was stationed there during the Korean War.  Chee was 19 and Smitty was several years older.  Smitty's full name was Vernon L. Smith, and he grew up in Raymond, KS in Rice County.  On Dec. 21 he would have been 88.

On Tuesday, Hiromi, Joel, and I traveled to Wichita where Smitty had been admitted to Via Christi (St. Francis) Hospital.  When we arrived at the burn unit waiting room, we found many family members there.  They had spent most of the night there and then left around 4:30 AM to make the one-hour trip home.  At 7:30, they got a phone call from the hospital saying that Smitty was failing, so they hurried back.  We got there early in the afternoon.

The doctor in charge of his care had already told the family that there was zero chance that Smitty would recover from having third-degree burns over 25% of his body--mostly because of his age and his heart condition.  He was under heavy sedation with a ventilator doing his breathing for him.  Medications (which over time would begin to damage his organs) were artificially elevating his heart rate and his blood pressure.

We spent a precious afternoon with four generations of the extended Smith family.  Chee was not quite ready to agree to the removal of life support, and everyone was willing to give her the time she needed to reach that place.  The family went home again for the night.

The next morning, after another long conversation between the doctor and the family, an agreement was reached.  We were not present, and for obvious reasons will not pry into the details of how things transpired after that.  Chee called us around noon with a simple message:  Smitty is gone.

Cremation is planned and a funeral service is scheduled for 2:00 Saturday, Dec. 15. 

Smitty and Chee lived for years in the same house one block west of the lake in Sterling.  Those who have attended the July 4 celebrations in Sterling passed by very close to their place when they turned east at the Dairy Queen (or whatever that ice cream place is called now).

I'm thinking some regretful thoughts right now in relation to Smitty.  I'm sorry that he and Chee could not be present when we had our early Japanese food New Year's celebration on Dec. 1 so that Joel's family could be present.  We invited them and they said they would come, but there were some misunderstandings, and they ended up not coming because they didn't want to get the flu.  I regret also that Smitty was apprehensive about the prospect of death--as he expressed to Chee.  I regret that his memory had become impaired to the point that processing new information was very difficult, so some of the conversations we had about matters of faith in recent months were hard for him to process, and it was often hard for us to know where to start.

I feel reassured on other counts.  Smitty and Chee had frequently stopped in to see us in the past few months, and we had some pleasant interactions.  The family asked us to pray in the hospital room, and all three of the Iwashiges did so, out loud, at two different times, each time at the request of Chee or one of her daughters.  Although Smitty was unconscious, we prayed as though he could hear us, and we gave thanks for his life and for the presence of the spirit of God with us in the room.  We prayed for him to sense God's love and mercy and to feel peace in his spirit.

Hiromi did exactly the right thing by speaking directly to Smitty and very kindly urging him to "tell God you're sorry if there's anything that bothers you, and then when God calls you, don't hesitate to answer.  Go to Him right away when he calls you."  He had slipped in alone to tell Smitty that earlier, and then repeated it when much of the family was in the room.

Thinking about the fact that the spirit never dies was a comfort to me in reference to some of the other harsh realities of being in the presence of a loved one with such a damaged body and tamped-down senses.  Smitty was never beyond the reach of the spirit of God--the same Spirit Who was accessible to us also.  That's how speaking the words we spoke made sense--because of the great power of God to bridge the gap between our helplessness (and our faith!) and Smitty's need.

*************

Smitty was a responsible man, a hard worker, and had good management instincts and many handyman skills.  He had worked as a manager at the Sterling Coop for a number of years, and at various times he was employed elsewhere:  working for the Sterling Police Department, serving as an EMT and volunteer fireman, driving school buses and chartered tour buses, working on farms, working at the West 4th Coop in Hutchinson, and driving a delivery truck.  He often worked a full time job and one or more part time jobs.

Smitty was a solicitous host and was unfailingly kind toward our family.  He even told me recently how much he liked my dad.

During the time in the hospital waiting room Chee told us things that we never observed--that he always came to help her fold laundry, unasked, and that he often told her he loved her.  The burns he suffered occurred while he was dong a nightly ritual for Chee--lighting the gas heater in the "little house" where the only shower was located--because she preferred a shower to a tub, and the room needed warming before she took her shower.  The little house was at one time a very tiny stand-alone dwelling next to a larger house.  Over time, Smitty and Chee had added onto the bigger house and then connected the two houses by what I'll call a covered breezeway, for want of a better term.  The breezeway was attached to the kitchen of the bigger house.

No one knows exactly what went wrong, but Chee was sitting in the living room--far away from the little house--when she heard Smitty calling for help.  Before she could get to him, he came into view, having walked all the way through the breezeway and the big kitchen.  I can't imagine Chee's horror at seeing his clothing and hair in flames.  She doused him with water from the bathtub faucet and then called 911, but had a terrible time making herself understood by the dispatcher (that Japanese-accented language problem!).  Smitty was still conscious and talking when he left in the ambulance.  Chee also called her daughter Bev in Hutchinson, who came right away and then drove Chee to Wichita immediately.

Smitty and Chee's only son died from leukemia more than a decade ago--in his late forties.  Debbie is Bev's only sister.  She lives in Arkansas City.

Here is the obituary.