Faith Steed Howarth

[Discussing Dad's death]

Well, after dad had died, you see, we went up there. This one doctor was waiting - it was nice of him, you know. He stayed right with me. He said to me, you know, "Those men came and he didn't suffer anymore." And, I thought that was a good, you know. He was in such pain. He was in agony. They'd cut a piece out of his arm and put something into his flesh. I don't know what they were doing. He was just suffering.

I wasn't there when the Elders came. They sent me home. They said you can come back in the morning. It was fairly late in the evening and it was in the winter - snow and all that. If he [the doctor] hadn't of told me that, I wouldn't have known. He evidently heard it [the administration]. Because he said that dad didn't suffer anymore. They had promised him that he would not suffer anymore. They made the promise to him and evidently the pain left him at that time. But, he lived on for a little while and then he died peacefully.

I had such a bad cold, I was sick myself. All during the funeral, when the people came, you know, I felt so bad - so sick as well as - but I don't know, I held up pretty good. I had lots of people tell me that they liked the way we handled it, you know. Of course, the truth is that even then death wasn't the awful thing to me that it is was when my father died. To me, that was the end. But, it's a little different when it's your husband. Anyhow, I was awfully blessed - many blessings.

Early that morning when they called us, Pam and I went down and she went through all this with me. This man, one of the doctors, was really awfully nice. He looked at me and I couldn't say a word. He told us that the Elders had come and had administered to him and they had said to him, "You will not suffer any more." He'd been suffering terribly. They put a hole in his arm and put a thing in it. I don't know what all they'd tried to do. He told me that he did not suffer any more. So, I know that he didn't suffer. He passed away without it [suffering].

But, of course, it was just heart-breaking. I didn't realize, you see, I thought he was better. I don't know what happened, but, like I told you before, the other doctor told me there were three things that could kill him. But, do you think they'd tell me what they were? No, the Army always treated me as if I didn't matter. I had not business - it was not my business. They never told me anything. But, maybe that's their way of doing it. I don't know. These two times were the only contact I had with the people who took care of him.

And it was true [referring to the doctor who told her Dad was living on her faith], he was, because I had faith and was, you know, anxious to help him. I think he felt more safe and secure when I was with him. Because after I took him home the first time there, he'd yell my name. He could always say my name. He'd shout it out and I'd run to him and kneel down and pray. I didn't have to call the doctor. It would go. That's what worries me so because I promised to God that if he'd give us a little time that I would do my level best to bring every one of my children back to him. That's why Wayne bothers me so much. [Dave - “Remember what you told him - You'd do your best.”] Uh huh. Then he'd be all right. It would go away. It would just leave him. We had what was it? More than 15 years he lived and he was a happy man during a lot of that. He really was. He was in the hospital for time to time, but do you think they'd every tell me what was wrong with him? Not ever.

The time he was in the hospital, one of the early times while we were still in San Francisco something happened. They were operating on him for his tonsils. When they cut into his throat, he was not anesthetized. They went ahead and finished the operation. Now imagine people chopping in your throat without any [ ... pain killer??? ] Whether that was it or something else, they wouldn't tell me. They'd made a mistake, you know. But, I don't know and, of course, he never complained. I knew nothing about his condition. When this man said there were three things, he wouldn't tell me what they were. I knew one was heart, but that's all he would ever tell me. They just acted like women were a nuisance. They made you feel like you just didn't count.

After he passed away, men came and wanted to buy his tools. I gave some away and sold some, 'cause I couldn't use them. He went over to the church and made all of those little boxes for the hymn books [he re-made all of the hymnbook holders on the back of the pews for Edgehill Ward]. He did all that for the church. He did a lot of work over there. The men over there got so they knew him and they got along fine.