I’ve shared my thoughts, feelings and memories about Jeff this week. Now, it’s the rest of the family’s turn.
Part 5 of The Boy We Loved, Once Upon a Time – posts about my nephew, Jeff, who died of cancer 25 years ago this week.
Grandpa & Grandma K
Some time after Jeff’s death, I received a letter from Ann, describing the planting of three blue spruce trees in Jeff’s memory at the farm in Sheffield, Iowa, where Jeff had spent many happy hours. Uncle Eldon’s family contributed one, Aunt Orva contributed another, and Harry & Ann, themselves, the third. They planted them in various locations that Jeff loved around the farm: by the bag swing and campfire; the treehouse and Zoomer (zipline); and, the largest, “in the exact place that Tom and all of his brothers used to play basketball, at the end of where a red corncrib stood.”
“Harry and I are so grateful for those precious summers we had with Jeff and Lisa. Our hearts are filled with priceless memories. Each time I drive out or into the driveway, I drive by Jeff’s tree and think of him. That’s a sweet experience for me.”
Harry & friend with one of Jeff’s Memory Trees / Jeff’s Trees today
Dave & Rosemary
Christmases at Grandpa and Grandma K’s farm were the best (at least in the eyes of our 3 boys) when Jeff was there. From building snow forts, to taking over the basement bunk room (complete with NO GIRLS ALLOWED signs), to creating wild and wooly games with rubber band guns, ping pong ball guns and all sorts of ammunition and noise, there was never a boring or dull moment when Jeff was there. We have such fun memories of our times with Jeff. It will be a great reunion someday!
Tom & Jeff on the bag swing at the farm in Sheffield, Iowa / Jeff with Nate & Daniel
Jane
Jeff, I remember your sheer talent. For rhythm, harmony, humor, and lightness. It seems to me that, when you would run into a room (usually followed by cousins with a plan), all eyes focused on you. I think we were anticipating the details of a grand adventure, the careful timing of a kid joke, or the artful quoting of some great Disney movie. And we knew there would be a twinkle in your eye and a smile on your face that said, “Come on guys!” Drew was never privileged to meet you, but I’m sure he’s thoroughly enjoying your humor now. And I think you’re both smiling.
Jane in the hammock with Lisa
You can click through a few moments from Jeff’s life with arrows, below…
Granny
As I was looking for pictures of Jeff in a photo album of my mom’s, she said, “I remember there was a picture of me reading to Jeff in the rocking chair.”
When I found this and showed it to her she smiled and nodded. “Yes, that’s the one.”
The other memory Granny mentioned was that Jeff said “I wish I could go back to Green Lake,” and I’m guessing it was when we were there for our last Christmas with him. She noted, “It’s really something… what you remember,” as she looked at this picture.
Kathy
1995-96 was the year I got to know Jeff. Prior to Jeff’s diagnosis, he was my nephew, cousin to my four girls, and I loved him through their eyes and hearts. After he got sick, I developed a different, more mature relationship with him, almost more like with a peer, as I got to know his deep heart and mind and make an emotional connection. I’m so grateful for that time.
In the Summer of 1995, I got to visit Jeff and his family in July as he was finishing his horrible transplant treatment. I arrived in Plano the day before he was released and Tom drove me immediately to the hospital. Jeff was so sick but so pleasant and it was clear he did not want to be a downer. I think that is where I was reintroduced to Gumby and Pokey figurines — I remember drawing them on the hospital whiteboard.
Once Jeff was home, a healthcare nurse stopped by to train Kris to use the overwhelming equipment and demonstrate care that may be needed. Kris tried to get food and drink that Jeff would like to eat, when taste buds had been affected by his treatments. Orange pop, Macdonald’s fries and maybe McNuggets and Twinkies. Later, when Jeff was unable to keep the food down, he was so apologetic for the clean-up Kris had to do.
On another visit later that summer or fall, I got to go watch the newly released movie, BABE with Jeff’s family. There were times in the movie that were sweet and warm and I remember getting teary eyed. I noticed that Jeff did, as well. Shortly before or after Jeff passed away, I came upon a stuffed animal Babe on sale in a toy store which I purchased as a reminder of that sweet memory made with Jeff. I still have it and it always brings me back to my times with Jeff. As does Herbert, the hedgehog.
We exchanged emails often, sometimes multiple times a day. I had printed most of them and recently, last fall, reread them after coming across them in a drawer. He was so funny! Clever and witty. Often, he assumed the persona of his alter ego, Herbert the Hedgehog, or less frequently, Scully, the crab puppet. He “broadcast” on K-HOG radio — “where you can find Christmas music all the time — all-day-all-night!” We rewrote Christmas carol lyrics back and forth, almost becoming a friendly competition, and it was great and creative fun. Gumby and Pokey may have also been a part of it. I loved Herbert.
Memories of younger Jeff that come to mind are:
Sitting in church with Kris and Jeff and my husband’s brother, Jim. I felt Jim elbow me and with wide eyes nod towards a young 4-year-old Jeff, softly reading a book out loud.
Sitting in our family room with Kris (maybe K and K too?) while our kids were playing. At one point we moms became very attentive as we tuned in to their conversation and play and heard them rejoice as one of them ‘gave birth’ shouting “It’s, it’s it’s (a boy? A girl?) it’s………a potato!!!” as the little potato head was born…..
Christmases in Minnesota with the cousins plotting, the outnumbered boys against girls, creatively coming up with ways to prank each other… usually involving things dropping out of a bedroom loft or falling from overhead in doorways… it was one of the few opportunities that the cousins of all ages were able to play together.
My sisters and I were invited to do a musical program at my Fergus Falls Mother & Daughter banquet one spring . Only Kris was available to join me, so we selected our songs and rehearsed individually at our respective homes before the weekend of the banquet. For weeks leading up to it, Jeff would poke fun at Kris by singing “mother and daughter banquet” in a singsong voice. We still sometimes singsong it ourselves if any M/D banquet comment comes up.
Karin
Many years ago, Dan and the girls and I drove down to Plano to spend a few days with the Koenigsbergs. Dan and I slept on a foldout couch. Kris told us we’d just have a lazy morning so we could sleep in. At the crack of dawn, I felt movement near my feet, looked up, and Jeff was sitting there turning on the TV. He told us his parents said he can watch cartoons on Saturday morning, so he sat and watched for over an hour before anyone else got up. That’s the kind of kid Jeff was.
A few years later, Jeff and Lisa stayed with us over a weekend when Kris and Tom were out of town. We lived in the country in Maple Plain, and we had a few horses surrounded by electric fence. I reminded Jeff and Lisa not to touch the wire. Minutes later I heard screaming and there was Jeff holding the fence. Dan had to run and help him let go. After the weekend was over, Kris asked me if I knew Jeff had called at least once every hour leaving messages on their home answering machine. I did not.
Another time we drove through Burger King and Jeff wanted a Whopper. He was kind of a picky eater so I asked if he’d had one before. He said, “Oh yes, I get them all the time.” He didn’t eat the Whopper.
Fast forward to January 23, 1996, after a year-long battle with his brain tumor. Jeff sent an email (one of many we exchanged) to me with a “song from Herbert the Hedgehog.” It was honest about how he was feeling but it was also filled with humor. Here he was sick, uncomfortable, weak and facing an uncertain future, and he was writing funny songs to his aunts. He had grown from the mischievous and sometimes typically naughty little boy to a kind, sensitive, thoughtful but still humorous, young man.
When I think of Jeff, I remember the last Christmas we spent with him, and his joy at seeing the chartered bus full of family. I remember watching the Super Bowl that year, when he called the halftime show “the suckiest of all sucky” halftime shows of all time. I remember his creative and very funny times with Herbert and the other characters he developed. I remember leaving after that weekend knowing I would most likely not see him again. That was a hard good-bye.
Most of all I remember that Jeff was the beloved son of my sister and her husband. He was the big brother to Lisa. He was the first male grandson of our parents, the first nephew in our family. And the first to leave us. Through all the sadness of remembering these things, I am grateful and confident that we will see him again. Because of the hope we have in Christ.
Liv
My first memory of Jeff was at their stylish and cozy house in Edina, as our family, from rural Minnesota, was visiting their family for the weekend. When we were sent to bed, Jeff was given instructions to read if he woke up early in the morning. HE WAS TWO. Eva and I were so surprised and impressed that Jeff loved to soak up books (though he couldn’t yet read the words) . . . he still looked at pictures on his own. His parents put a cover over the minute section of the digital bedroom alarm clock, so he could see when the hour turned “seven.” Hah! All of us noticed his extreme intelligence. He was sharper than the average boy.
Another special memory which came up many many times in our childhood and teen years: haunted houses / traps / or basement forts. That young man really knew how to appreciate creating complex homes within the homes / forts / hiding places / but mostly scary haunted houses that were designed to scare or frustrate his little sister. I remember that Jeff loved pranking, and I see that in my own junior high son as well. Especially and all too often getting under his sister’s skin, and pulling pranks on the little sis.
Most of all, I knew that he and my Mom formed a special bond when Jeff was undergoing cancer treatments. They emailed back and forth a lot, and cracked jokes together… Mom in Minnesota, Jeff in Texas.
It was always obvious how deeply Kris and Tom loved Jeff, and they called him “Son” as much as they called him “Jeff,” in my memory. I cry when I think of what Kris and Tom and Lisa have had to go through, year after year, decade after decade. Those three survivors will never stop being carried in my prayers.
Final thought – Jeff’s humor. He was so excited to find the joke or the prank or the comic aspect to every single situation. He made life fun.
It is sometimes hard to believe, but the truth is, Jesus saved Jeff and Jesus is saving me. So . . . this means that, thanks to Jesus—I’ll get to see Jeff again. Wherever God and heaven are, after death, it’s pretty cool to think Jeff and I will run into each other there. Again! I’m happy about that.
Britta
I have one memory of a day spent at the Koenigsbergs’ house when I was little. I’m sure it was Laura and I both. Nothing big or exciting happened, just a sunny spring/summer afternoon. We had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. I remember being in the sun room; in my memory that’s where we ate lunch – no idea if that’s true, or if we merely spent time playing with Jeff (and Lisa?) in there. Kris’ grand piano in the living room. I remember walking on the sidewalk, playing. Simple, everyday moments.
When we lived in Maple Plain, the whole family was gathered there for some event. Suddenly, the doorbell rings and a police officer is standing there. Jeff, Anna, and Krista had called 911. I believe all of us kids were included in the “why you don’t prank call 911” speech that was given. I’ve used this story to teach my kids the same lesson.
In my junior and senior years of high school (this would have mostly been after Jeff had died), the guys in my friend group -Erich included- were big fans of the Simpsons. I remember wishing I had Jeff’s grasp of Simpson’s trivia. Jeff would have gotten along with that group of funny, smart, Simpson-loving people.
My memories are often based on the stories and pictures of Jeff, as so much of our lives were spent separated by the geography of Minnesota and Texas. Not getting to know him into adulthood is a loss I know we all feel. As I thought about my high-school friends, I wonder if Jeff would throw out Simpson quotes with Erich at family gatherings. But just like with my dad, it is usually too painful for me to spend a lot of time thinking about what could have been.
What would Jeff be like now? What career would he have chosen? What would he be like as a cousin-uncle? Though those answers elude us, I was formed by Jeff’s life and death in many ways. The loss and grief taught me. The stories from the people whose lives he touched and who saw things in him I did not get to. The trajectory of my own life was altered by his death; not only do I miss this cousin I remember, but I’m not sure I’d have ever attended SMU and had the experiences I had while there, if God had provided for Jeff’s healing on this side of heaven. Walking through an eerily similar journey with a college friend who lost a son after a roughly year-long battle with brain cancer, her perspective was profound for me to hear. Her son, Tyler, WAS healed by God… it just happened in heaven, not here. Jeff IS healed, he IS alive, living more fully than ever; he is laughing, cracking jokes, drawing. He is doing meaningful work, knowing and being known, worshiping God. This is the hope and the promise of our Savior, even as He holds us in our grieving. And I remember Jeff’s life here. The spark, the humor, the wit. His strength, his compassion. The 13 years he had to touch our family, his neighborhood, his friends.
We remember. He is missed.
Laura
I remember being at a family day dinner at the cabin with everybody. We were having mashed potatoes and Jeff couldn’t handle the texture, spitting them back out. I went to play with Jeff and Lisa in Edina sometimes when Mom was at work. I remember playing with the kitchen with Jeff in their basement. I also remember flying to Plano to spend a week with Jeff and Lisa when I was 12 or 13. I will always remember Herbert and Henrietta and the funny shenanigans they got into.
Eva
My cousin Jeff was an incredible person. One-of-a-kind. This was apparent to all of us, even before he became sick. His flaming red hair and freckles were of course the first thing you noticed about him. But he was also incredibly gifted—quick wit, extraordinary creativity, and an intelligent mind. One of my earliest memories of Jeff was that he could read before me, even though he was two years younger. I was both impressed and a bit resentful about that.
When Jeff’s family lived in Edina, and my family in northwestern Minnesota, I had the lucky pleasure of getting to spend a few days with them. We must have been preschool or early elementary-aged? I don’t know how I got to be the lucky one of my 3 sisters stay there, but I do remember I got to stay in Jeff’s room with him and we had a lot of fun together—making a mess of their basement, playing in their yard with his neighbor, and going out for ice cream.
Jeff was always fun to play with—he had creative ideas and a dose of mischief to make it exciting….Like the time we prank called the police at another aunt’s house and the police ended up coming over—much to our parents’ surprise and chagrin! I also remember visiting Jeff and his family when they lived in Texas, and the fun we had there—especially when our parents went out one evening and we kids got to stay home alone and just maybe get into some more mischief together.
And of course I remember the last time we saw Jeff—that Christmas when the entire Eastlund clan went down to Texas to spend the holiday with him. We brought a cooler of snow from Minnesota and enjoyed a snowball fight. I remember it was a bittersweet time. It was hard to see how the cancer had changed Jeff’s body and put him in a wheelchair. It was hard knowing that this was probably going to be the last time we would see Jeff on this side of heaven. But he was still Jeff. I do not feel like 12 years was enough time for us to get to enjoy the gift that was Jeff. 25 years later, I still miss him, and wonder what it would be like to enjoy adult Jeff’s company. I wish he were still here, but I take comfort knowing he is enjoying the pleasures of God’s presence. I look forward to seeing him there someday.
Anna
I remember playing Honey, I Shrunk the Kids at the cabin. For some reason we were playing it on the boat which was parked on the lift. I also remember making haunted houses and setting booby traps. He made a great Kevin McCallister Home Alone aftershave impression!
And of course our last Christmas together. I’ll never forget that.
Krista
What I remember about Jeff…I don’t remember a whole lot from before he was sick which I am now sad about. He was the only cousin I had on either side of the family that was not years older or younger than me.
For a time, he loved Ghostbusters, had some really cool Ghostbusters toys and, that we used to create some not-very-scary haunted houses in the cabin basement.
Thanks to him, the rest of us were finally able to start watching the Simpsons (a show previously forbidden by my parents for my sisters and me). That last Christmas that we all took a bus to Texas is still probably the best Christmas I’ve ever had. We were the talk of the neighborhood with the snowmen we built with the snow we brought from Minnesota! I think we even ran him up and down the streets in his wheelchair to see how fast we could go!
Erik
One of my earliest memories of Jeff was while the family was at the cabin one summer. I was probably 4 or 5, and hadn’t been out tubing yet that weekend. I wasn’t afraid or anything, but comparatively speaking, Jeff was used to riding a lot faster and edgier. But not that time. This time he only wanted to get me out on the tube and have some fun. We kept it at a nice and easy 10-15 mph’s, well within my comfort range at the time.
That’s one of the first takeaways I had from Jeff.
Anika
At the time of Jeff’s passing, I was 4 and the youngest of my cousins. At this point, most of my memories of Jeff are not my own, but stories of anecdotes I’ve heard over the years. The one memory of him that is mine is from the last Christmas we spent with him in Texas. At that point Jeff was using a wheelchair, and I remember sitting in his lap and being pushed around the neighborhood by cousins. I also remember insisting on wearing my “princess” dress to his service.
Although my memories of Jeff are minimal, and cloudy at best, I still feel like his life impacted my own. In the tapestry of our family, Jeff’s life and remembrances of him has been woven as a thread throughout. Losing a family member / loved one is a traumatic experience for anyone, and as a young child, it can shape their view of the world to be a scary, dark, sad place. But I don’t recall ever feeling that. As I look back now, with almost 30 years of life experience under my belt, I know there was sadness and mourning, and grief… there still is… but there was and is also a sense of hope, of peace.
I’m infinitely blessed that, as a child of 4, in the midst of heart-wrenching sorrow, I was given a wonderful example of faith. Faith that in the midst of the fire, there is one who stands beside us. Seeing this attitude and decision of trust by the adults in my life was quite buoying to a 4-year-old experiencing loss for the first time. We knew Jeff was a child of the King and had been called home… perhaps why I felt the princess dress was appropriate.
Kirsten
I never got to meet Jeff. While I didn’t experience losing him in real time, I have come to understand that never having met him is a loss of its own. I feel I have gotten to know him through the stories my family members have so often shared about him, and in a few home videos, as well. And the Jeff I have come to know through these stories (which are always told with a reflective smile) is a sparky, intelligent, and incredibly entertaining young man. He is a young man filled with potential and a love for life and his family that we can all learn from. I wish that I could have met this cousin of mine, and that I could have sat next to him at Granny’s table at the cabin, enjoying some of her fudgy brownies with him. I give thanks for the relationship I am confident that he shared with our Jesus as modeled by Kris and Tom. And I look forward to sharing Granny’s brownies with him at a table that has been prepared for us in Heaven.
My apologies to Anna / Krista. I can’t distinguish who is who. In any of these pictures.
Karna Eastlund Haugen 