In Memory of Helen

 

My big sister died last week. Here’s the short version of the obituary:

Helen Margaret Martin Jungemann Schmeling passed away, January 22, 2021 at home in Scroggins, Texas, following a short illness. She was born December 20, 1941, in Aurora, Illinois. Her parents were Albert Gould Martin, M.D. and Ruth Baker Martin. She graduated in 1959 from West Aurora High School and from SMU in Dallas, Texas in 1963. She was married to Roger Jungemann for 50 years; then to Daniel Schmeling for four years. A 30-year resident of Scroggins, Texas, Helen volunteered for the El Dorado Property Owners Association, and Christus/Mother Frances Hospital in Winnsboro, Texas. She was also employed to teach parenting classes at the North Texas Child Advocacy Center. She was preceded in death by her parents and brother, Tom Martin. She is survived by husband, Dan; daughters Leslie Jungemann (Thomas Moran) and Amy Jungemann Hidajat (Arif); grandchildren Erin Marie Moran and Andrew Thomas Moran; sisters Ruth Ann Martin and Emily Martin. Many more nieces and nephews also cherish their memories of Helen.

There’s so much that doesn’t go into a death announcement like this. I wanted to record some of my own memories.

Helen was 10 when I was born and a lot of the responsibility of taking care of my mom’s fourth baby fell to her. Last September, when I visited Helen in the hospital, she told one of the nurses that I was her “first baby.” Indeed, Helen was very much  a mother to me.

I remember, vaguely, riding on her back and being fascinated by her ponytail. When I was about five, she took me with her to stuff paper napkins into chicken wire as the high school choir made homecoming floats. She went to college in Dallas when I was in third grade. One of my happiest surprises was seeing her come home for Thanksgiving. (I’d been told I wouldn’t see her until Christmas). Another year, there was a deep, beautiful snow on the ground the morning after she came home for Christmas, and I felt as blissful as I ever have.

A lot of my memories are about summer camp, Minne Wonka Lodge in Three Lakes, Wisconsin. Helen first went to the eight-week camp for girls when she was nine. By the time I was nine, she was a counselor, and as cool as could be. My sister Ruth Ann was there, too, and I completely idolized them. My second year at camp, I was terribly homesick, so Helen and Ruth Ann snuck me out of my cabin after lights-out one night to walk me around and help me feel better.

Helen and Ruth Ann preceded me at SMU where all three of us were Delta Gammas. They both came to my initiation in the spring of 1970 when Helen was expecting her second baby, Amy. (Her first baby, Leslie, managed to be born on my 17^th birthday, November 8, 1968.) Later that same year, December 1970, I called Helen about a boyfriend problem. She calmly gave some advice, then said she had to go…to the hospital because she was in labor.

During college, Helen coached me on other issues. One time, she and Roger hosted me and an off-beat boyfriend for dinner and a lesson in playing bridge. (The boyfriend was snarky and disdainful because I wasn’t catching on quickly enough or taking it seriously. That was my first and last foray into playing bridge.) When I graduated, Helen hosted a luncheon for me and some of my girlfriends.

She was there for all the major events in my life, good and bad. When I got fired from my first job, Helen reassured me that I’d move forward. Christmas and Thanksgiving were usually at her home for years, until I had a house of my own so we could alternate. She and Roger and their friends Dan and Ellen Schmeling did all the serving at my (very modest) wedding in the DG house.

No one was happier than Helen when John and I finally got around to having our first baby, Jett. If I was Helen’s first baby, Jett was her first grandson. Three years later when Lily came, Helen made supper every night for John and Jett during the weeks that I was confined to a hospital bed. Lily was born eight weeks early and spent the first five weeks in the NICU. On day three, Helen brought her Lutheran pastor to baptize Lily. John and I, Baptists who believe in believers’ baptism, were deeply touched by this compassionate gesture of concern.

We did a lot of things together over the years. When my mother was battling cancer in New Orleans, Helen and I had some surprisingly enjoyable road trips to visit. She invited us to come to her lake house in Scroggins, sometimes even when she wasn’t able to be there. During the last year or so before she moved out to the lake house full time, we had lunch together once a month. How I enjoyed those regular get-togethers!

A couple of years ago, she went with John and me on a hilarious road trip to Iowa to visit her granddaughter Erin. One of my greatest disappointments is that we had to cancel our Viking river cruise last summer due to COVID. During the time we would have been gone—along with Dan and Ruth Ann and her daughter Jennie—Helen got her diagnosis of stage IV melanoma.

The last few months have been rough. Let’s just say that I was relieved when she passed away because the suffering was over.

We Christians take comfort from our faith that Helen is in the arms of Jesus now. She has a new life, rejoicing in the presence of the Father. Yay.

I also take comfort that her spirit lives on in the warm, happy memories cherished by her surviving friends, family, and especially her baby sister.