Grandpa Boon

Andrew Boon was born on September 26, 1923 to Marinus and Hendrika (Hattie Van Bemmel) Boon near Doon, Iowa.  He grew up in the area and graduated from the 8th grade from Rock Valley Christian School. He married Johanna Wallenburg on November 30, 1945 at the home of her parents in Inwood, Iowa. He worked as a hired farm hand, then they farmed near Rock Rapids until moving to Rock Valley in 1965. Together they raised eight children. They were members of the Rock Rapids Christian Reformed Church, and later 1st Christian Reformed Church in ROck Valley where he served as an elder and taught catechism. He worked at Roorda Machine Shop until he retired in 1986. Upon retiring, Andrew worked at Rock Valley Plumbing and Heating. He and his wife also worked part time at Den Hoed's Greenhouse and cleaned Jim's Barber Shop. Andrew and Johanna were very involved with their family and spent many hours attending their grandchildren and great grandchildren's special events such as church programs, school programs, and birthday parties. He enjoyed fishing trips, playing cards adn games with family and friends. On Labor Day weekend each year they would take a short trip with his brothers and sisters. Andrew's hobbies included woodworking and tinkering in his shop. He was a true handy man. Johanna passed away on March 27, 2011. Andrew moved to Four Seasons in May 2011 and to Whispering Heights in January 2012. Andrew died on Wednesday, February 22, 2012, surrounded by his loved ones. He was 88 years of age.



I was able to visit Grandpa on Tuesday, the night before he left.  He was weak, and it was apparent that he was in his last hours.  The man I saw lying on the bed was hardly the one I recognized as my grandpa.  I was able to sit by the bedside for a while and hold his hand, watching as he struggled for air and to try to cough the crap out of his lungs.  He was so weak, he could hardly gather enough strength to do something as simple as cough.  Though his eyes were open, he couldn't see me, but we think he was still able to hear us.

I don't mean to paint such an uncomfortable and sad picture in your mind, and that isn't the way I want to remember my grandpa, but seeing him in his bed like that really opened my eyes that night.  Maybe you have experienced watching someone struggle in their last hours of life, fighting for every breath.  If you have, maybe you can understand what I am about to describe. If you haven't, maybe the limited details of my own experience can help you see what I saw...

I saw death.  Death is ugly.  Death is grotesque.  Death is saddening.  Death is utterly undesirable.  Death is destruction.  I saw this as I held Grandpa's hand and sat near him.  For a second, I wanted to curse Satan because I was blaming him for the death and the sin and corruption in this world that destroys flesh and that was taking Grandpa's life.  But then I realized that it was I who chose this.  I chose this through Adam (Romans 5:12).  I soon realized that this image of a dying man is what sin looks like. And since that night, I have this image in my head every time my conscience calls me out on some sin I have committed. Again, this isn't a pleasant image and not one that I want to remember Grandpa by, but this sobering image really put sin into perspective for me.  I have a better idea now of the destructive and grotesque separation from God that sin is.  Even if the sin I commit makes me feel good or seems pleasurable... It actually looks like death.

Before I left Grandpa's room that night, my dad pulled out his guitar, and as a family, we were able to gather around his bed and sing hymns.  The first song we sang is the one that sticks out in my mind the most...

1. Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,
   Calling for you and for me;
   See, on the portals He’s waiting and watching,
   Watching for you and for me.
   • Refrain:
     Come home, come home,
     You who are weary, come home;
     Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
     Calling, O sinner, come home!
2. Why should we tarry when Jesus is pleading,
   Pleading for you and for me?
   Why should we linger and heed not His mercies,
   Mercies for you and for me?
3. Time is now fleeting, the moments are passing,
   Passing from you and from me;
   Shadows are gathering, deathbeds are coming,
   Coming for you and for me.
4. Oh, for the wonderful love He has promised,
   Promised for you and for me!
   Though we have sinned, He has mercy and pardon,
   Pardon for you and for me.

Luckily for Grandpa and for all believers, death, in the end, has no victory... has no sting.  An encouraging text that I received from a dear friend on the day of the funeral reminded me of this.
"But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep."  1 Thessalonians 4:13-15

The pastor also read from this during the service. The passage continues.
"For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words." 1 Thessalonians 4:16-18

Grandpa isn't dead.  He's asleep.  And when Christ comes again, whether it be within my lifetime or after I too have fallen asleep, we will both rise to be with Him forever at last.  So as the pastor said as he finished the ceremony at the cemetery, "We don't have to say "goodbye, Grandpa." But rather, "Goodnight Grandpa... see you in the morning.""    

Grandpa was able to make it to the wedding only two months before he left.  We were so happy and thankful that he was able to make the trip all the way down to Des Moines.  This is the image of Grandpa that I will remember.