Last September, Barbara and I were in San Diego at a reunion of our old neighbors from Chicago, and we had planned to drive to Escondido to see our friends. But Iva came down with a bellyache, and we canceled the get-together. Little did we know that what appeared to be stomach flu would turn out to be cancer. After many agonizing chemotherapy and radiation treatments, the doctors finally told Iva that there was nothing left to do. Ten days later she died, with her husband and sons holding her hand.
Life is beautiful but all too short.
When Iva was diagnosed with cancer, Jim started writing an e-mail letter to their friends, friends they had known in grammar and high school and others who had come into their lives over the years. The letters were about Iva, how she was responding to treatment, how her spirits were high and how, in spite of her condition, she continued to reach out to help those who needed it most. The letters were filled with love. Then came the news that the doctors had given up all hope, the news that his bride had slipped into a coma and, finally, the tearful news of her death. I attended the funeral and the traditional get-together at Jim's home after the services.