Clifford Leon Vandiver Written by his brother, Willis Vandiver

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At Age 13 Cliff's Mother Dies

In 1981, I learned in visiting with Loree that she was the only eye witness to the brain hemorrhage that cause Mother's death. I asked Loree to tell me what she remembered after 60 years. We were sitting on the davenport in her dining room as she told me this tragic story. I was touched by her account as she shed tears after all those years. I asked Loree if she would type the account and send it to me so I could put it into my life story. This she did in 1983.

Because Clifford and all who were old enough to remember shared in the tragedy of Mother's death, I am reproducing Loree's account followed by the role Cliff played in the events of those tragic days.

Loree's Account

Edna was born June 17, 1921, and Mother died June 20th at about 6:00 a.m., I think. The trouble began the day after the baby was born in the late afternoon, as I recall. Mother started to nurse the baby which normally brings on after pains. However, the pain she had was not normal. It was a very intense pain in her head. I remember that she put her hand to her head and said that it just felt as if her head would burst. And I think that is almost what happened and I believe that it must have happened at that time. The actual cause of her death was cerebral hemorrhage and I think it must have started at that time.

The woman who was there caring for her and the new baby turned to me and said, "Go get your father." I was frightened, knowing that something must be seriously wrong. I hurried out to the shop where Dad had taken Willis for a nap. At that time, Dad was recovering from a near-fatal siege of spotted fever and was still very weak. I woke him and told him something was wrong with Mother. He slipped on his shoes and hurried into the house, but by the time he reached her side, Mother was already unable to speak.

From that point on, things are somewhat confused in my memory. I had followed Dad back into the house but stayed in the kitchen. When Dad left Mother's bedside and came into the kitchen, he was distraught and crying. I had never seen him cry before, and I was almost terrified. One of the boys was sent to call the doctor which meant that he had to ride a horse several miles to the Lazy A Ranch where there was a telephone. Later, the doctor came but apparently was unable to do anything. Mother remained conscious for a while, and once when Dad asked her if she was in pain, she was able to whisper, "No." Later that night, she sank into a coma and never aroused.

That night was probably the worst night of my life. It was a nightmare of fear and despair. We children all stayed out in the shop. I can't remember how much anyone slept, if any. The older boys went to the house from time to time and came back to report to the rest of us, but there was never anything hopeful to report. Dad also came out to the shop at intervals, but his visits only confirmed our worst fears. Finally, late in the night, he came out sobbing and told us there was not hope for our mother's life.

Morning came at last, and I was sent with Mae and Willis over to Scheer's our nearest neighbors, about a mile away. I was eight years old at the time, Mae was less than five and Willis was just two. I had the responsibility of helping take care of the two younger ones. I spent a dreadful, fear-filled day and night at Scheer's, and then early the next morning, Dad came by with word that Mother had died. Sometime later that day, I was taken home and taken into the house to see my mother's body. The place was crowded with people who had come to help. I overheard someone remark about my bravery because I didn't cry as I looked at my mother's body. I know that whoever said it, simply misunderstood. It wasn't bravery at all. It was just that, in death, she didn't look like my mother to me.

The funeral and burial took place the next day. At that time and in our remote area, there was no embalming. The McHan brothers served the community as morticians probably because they were the ones who sold the caskets at their hardware store. I remember seeing a fruit jar filled with ice against my mother's shoulder as her face was uncovered for me to see. Summertime burials of necessity took place without delay.

I remember feeling hurt because I was not taken to the funeral, but it was thought that Willis and Mae were too young to go and I was left with them at Scheer's. The funeral was held in the Manard LDS Church with the Rev. Edwin Deacon of Fairfield Community Methodist Church in charge and Mother was buried in the Manard Cemetery. Granddad Woods and Uncle Perry Vandiver came out from Missouri but didn't arrive until after the funeral, of course. I think Granddad had instructions to bring us younger children back to Missouri but didn't, probably because Dad wouldn't permit it. I'm still extremely grateful that Dad had the courage to keep us. I can remember hearing Dad sobbing and saying, "I don't know what I'm going to do!" But somehow he found a way. It was never easy, but Dad didn't give his children to relatives to raise.

- - End of Loree's Account - -

The room under the "A" was the bedroom in which Mother died. The rock house on the left was built four years later.

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