I have read a number of stories lately about individuals who have lost their children at young ages. Some due to health reasons, some birth defects, and other reasons. I do not want to lessen any of the pain that come from such a loss. I have never suffered any loss of a child. I do think I would struggle more with having a child for a few years and then losing them. A child whose personality I have not really perceived and a hope and glimmer I never glimpsed seem like it might be easier to let go to the eternities with the knowledge I will raise them at a future time. But the loss and separation of having that child become a part of my daily life, whose personality fills my home, whose laughter and cries I recognize in another room, and then losing them to a future date seems more deep and poignant. I hope I never have to experience either, but I know others have and will still endure such a trial.
I have a Grandfather and five great grandparents I never met. While I know their image, some of their personality, their lives are woven into mine; I cannot recognize that influence. I have one great grandparent whose only memories are of her sitting in a lawn chair at reunions and laughing at us playing. But the grandparents and great grandparents I mingled, played games, and enjoyed their presence I miss. Some days terribly. I imagine it would be somewhat similar with the loss of a child, although the stillborn or soon passing child will have memories in the mind and life of the parents. Who knows, maybe it is any memory that makes it difficult.
In that light, I thought I would share some history, photos, and stories of Robert Lee and Dennis Willard Andra, my Grandmother’s brothers.
Robert Lee Andra was born 24 August 1934 in Preston, Franklin, Idaho. He was the eighth of twelve children born to Mary Louise Wanner and William Fredrick Andra. All I ever really heard about Robert is that it was a long, hard birth. He was born in the morning and passed away by the end of the day. Grandma told me he never really turned the right color, he had a tint of blue up until he died. She remembered her Mom holding the baby what seemed like all day. Little Robert was buried in the family section of the Whitney, Franklin, Idaho cemetery.
Dennis Willard Andra was born 10 January 1942 in Preston, Franklin, Idaho. He was the eleventh of twelve children born to Mary Louise Wanner and William Fredrick Andra. I imagine he grew up like any other child in the Andra household; one of many, playful, and a little mischievous. One of Don’s only memories are of Dennis in the highchair as a little boy, probably similar to this photo.
Here is a picture of Dennis with some siblings and cousins. This is a scan of a copy of a photograph. I hope some day I can get a scan of the original photograph so it is higher quality. Sergene, Ross, Don, Larry, and Dale are all siblings of Dennis. Sharon Johnson would be Dennis’ niece, June’s daughter (Sharon is one year younger than Dennis and a few months older than Larry). Jon and Kay are maternal first cousins. I have another photo of just the Andra siblings together, but its quality is so low that Dennis is not really distinguishable, so I did not post it.
Dennis had just celebrated his third birthday with his family on 10 January 1945. My Grandmother, Dennis’ sister Colleen, told me a story that still made her cry 50 years later. Dennis came in to her in the middle of the night. He could not sleep and his ear hurt. Grandma got up and made him a hot pad for his ear and held him for a while. He seemed to feel a little better so she laid him on her bed. She pulled out some dark red fingernail polish and painted his fingernails. He just laid there and watched her. It was clear to her that he was not feeling well. After she finished painting his fingernails she got up to take him back to his own bed. He did not want to go, he wanted to sleep with his sister. She got pretty stern with him and told him he had to sleep in his own bed. She carried him to his bed and tucked him in.
The next morning Great Grandma went in and found Dennis in eternal sleep, he had passed away in the night. Great Grandpa took little Dennis’ body in and laid him on their bed. Don remembers that his little foot curled a little and Great Grandpa straightened it out. Don saw his father cry from the circumstances. Here is a picture of little Dennis laid out for his burial at Webb’s Funeral Home in Preston. My Grandma had a better picture (which I don’t have), but this is again a scan of a copy until I can get a better scan or an original.
If you look closely, you can see that Dennis’ fingernails painted dark red. Grandma would look at the picture and her eyes would tear up. I remember her at one point saying that she felt bad she had spoken sternly to him before putting him back to bed. She loved him dearly and showed it by spending time with him, but the last words she spoke were perhaps harsher than she wanted some of his last feelings. I also know she wished she would have let him stay in her bed, not that it would have changed the outcome, but he might have felt a little more loved.
Dennis died 13 or 14 January 1945 (although his tombstone and death certificate says the 14th) in Preston. The difference in death dates is probably found in the family have him dying on the 13th when he went to bed, the coroner and formal documents have him pronounced dead the next day. His parents went with the 14th on the tombstone and he probably did die in the early hours of the 14th. He was buried 17 January 2012 in Whitney beside his brother. Both brother’s graves are at the heads of their parents.
Colleen’s journal only gives these few comments about her brother. On 9 January (which is a day off from the formal records) “Dennis birthday”. On 13 January 1945, “My darling brother Dennis died.” On 14 January 1945, “Several people came. I am thanking them.” On 17 January 1945, “My dearest brother’s funeral. I just couldn’t hardly see him go.”