Thursday, September 6, 2012
Erma was my cousin. My father was her father's baby brother. Uncle Gust gave my dad a job in his restaurant on Church Street in San Francisco when he emigrated from Sweden in 1923 when Erma was five years old. Erma adored my dad, and, as a child, he was second only in her heart to her dad, my Uncle Gust, whom she worshiped and whose memory she kept alive as long as she lived.
Erma and George moved back to San Francisco in 1948 when I was nine and her oldest son, Jim, was two. Our families were very close, and I spent a lot of time as a child and adolescent with my second-cousins, Jim and Rick, who was born the following year. I moved permanently to Washington State in 1961, but Erma and I became very close after George died in 1981. Along with other family members, I encouraged her to make a trip to Sweden, which she did in 1982. She flew up for my wedding to John Winesdorfer that December and stood in the receiving line as my next-of-kin.
Erma and I continued to be close and kept in regular telephone contact, where we would catch up on both our family's current activities and also reminisce about old times. We shared so many common memories of people, places, and events in the Swedish-American extended family and community that we both grew up in.
Her death is a real loss to me and represents an end of an era. I will miss her terribly. Family was always first for Erma. She adored her sons, her daughters-in-law, her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren; and she cherished the memories of her parents, her aunts and uncles and her cousins, of which I am the only one left.
I am comforted with the knowledge that her death was peaceful and the hope that she has been re-united with all the loved ones who have gone before; and that is a big crowd, first and foremost George, Jim, and her parents, but also the many relatives and friends she knew and loved so much as well.
Rest in Peace, Cousin Erma. I love you.
