December 22, 1996, was D-Day (diagnosis day) for our family. That was the day that my husband was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Fred struggled bravely against his tumor, going through two surgeries and a massive amount of radiation. Since the tumor was in his brainstem, the things that we usually take for granted (seeing, hearing, motor function, temperature regulation, speech, balance) were all affected. But he got frustrated with his failing body only a couple of times over the years and bore all he had to bear bravely.

Fred and I met in college; we were both unbelievers when we arrived there. When I was in high school, I was an atheist and wanted nothing to do with God. After I got to college, I met up with a group of Christians who befriended me. I was bemused by their kindness; no matter how I made fun of their faith, they just smiled and kept inviting me to their Bible studies. Around Easter of my freshman year, they told me I just had to watch the miniseries Jesus of Nazareth when it was on television. They made such a point of it, I agreed to watch it just to get them off my back! When it was over, I understood the Gospel. I repented of my sins and disbelief and began a new life.

Fred had become a Christian the year before, in his freshman year. He had been religious before (a Presbyterian), but saw his need for a savior at a revival meeting. Fred and I went our separate ways after we left school; he hitchhiked out to Montana and worked at the 4Bs Restaurant before coming back to Wisconsin, and I ended up proofreading for K.F. Merrill in St. Paul, Minnesota. We ran into each other now and then; I would visit him on trips back home to Milwaukee, and he'd write letters. After ten years of this, he decided it was time to settle down, and he asked my mother for my hand in marriage. We were married April 7, 1990.

We had our son in 1992, and he was so much fun we wanted lots more children. We had five in all before his tumor stepped in and put a stop to it. (We were criticized for having two more children after he was diagnosed, but I wouldn't be without them today.) Our oldest was in third grade when Fred was diagnosed. Until Fred had to quit work, homeschooling at our house proceeded much the same way it goes on for most homeschooling families: Fred went to work in the morning, and I stayed home and taught. During trips to the hospital for his MRIs, the children would do their schoolwork in the waiting room. He had to quit work in January of 1998 because he couldn't keep his balance well enough to do his factory job. Then Fred was in charge of Bible study and found a Bible question-and-answer book to use with the two oldest. It was good to be able to talk to him during the day, and we went on lots of field trips as a family.

His balance got worse and by spring of 1998 he was using a wheelchair. Gradually his functioning decreased until it was very difficult to get much done besides taking care of him. Bob from church stepped in and sat with Fred so I could work with the children. I also discovered that we were eligible for an attendant to come in and bathe and feed him, so I had more time to do what needed doing regarding homeschooling and housekeeping. The two oldest were doing some subjects with Switched-On Schoolhouse, which did not require my presence at all times. It was still so very hard, but I found out the truth of the verse "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

On the morning of October 8, 2002, I found Fred in a semi-coma. I had a choice to make. I could let him sleep until he died, and not have to struggle with his disabilities anymore, or I could send him to the hospital to see if they could bring him around. I chose to call the ambulance. When he got to the emergency room, he woke up. There we decided that he should go to a nursing home for a while for evaluation and a break for my own nerves.

Fred spent two weeks there. Because of the oxygen and steroids they put him on, his functioning skyrocketed. He was able to speak and hear better than he had for months and had some good visits with family and friends. I was so happy that I had decided to call the ambulance! On October 22, I brought him home. He was lethargic, but the staff and I attributed that to being worn out over the excitement of coming home again. I got him into bed at home and fixed him his supper: ground up Tuna Helper. He swallowed one bite, but the next one just started to slide back into his throat. I fished it out quickly and told myself that he was just tired from all the exertion and would be demanding a hearty breakfast by tomorrow morning. My heart told me the truth, though, and I asked all the children to come in and tell him that they loved him. At 2:00 the next morning, I woke up to hear Fred talking. It was obvious he was awake, but he wasn't talking to me. He was in his own world, and I realized he was doing something I had read about dying people doing. I walked around the house and wept and prayed.

The next morning I called Fred's parents and siblings and told them I thought he was dying. His family came and said goodbye to him and cleaned up the house and took care of the children. I got into bed beside him and held his hand and sobbed. I realized that there was only one more thing I could do for him: I got the hymnbook and began singing. I know he heard me, because sometimes he would try to sing a note with me. When my voice got tired, I played my viola. Sandy, my nurse friend, came and turned Fred on his side so he could breathe more comfortably. He faced the crib, and I think that if he could still see anything, his last earthly sight was of his baby lying safe in her crib - that thought still brings comfort to me. Fred's family put the children to bed, and most of them left. His sister-in-law stayed, and she and I were there when Fred took his last breath at 9:50. That was directly after I had sung "Christ the Lord Is Risen Today," and when I looked at the words again later, I saw how appropriate they were:

"Soar we now where Christ hath led, Alleluia!
Following our exalted Head, Alleluia!
Made like Him, like Him we rise, Alleluia!
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies, Alleluia!"

The burial service was on Friday, and the following Sunday afternoon we had a memorial service. His father and five brothers and sisters eulogized him, and also his college buddy Russ, who has been such a help in being a role model for Eric.

We took three days off of homeschooling, but we started again the fourth day. It was a crazy time; somebody was up at all hours of the day, and sometimes Eric was doing his SOS at midnight. Concentration suffered, and I sometimes found school supplies in the refrigerator. Eventually we regained equilibrium and now, I think, we're as normal as a family in our situation is going to get.

In November we picked out a gravestone. Fred had always done everything he could to promulgate the preaching of the Gospel. It would have been a shame if he couldn't continue to do that somehow. I couldn't put the entire Gospel on his gravestone - we could only afford the smallest they had - but in this age of the Internet, there was a solution. A Bible verse would cause people to say, "Well, that's a nice sentiment" and walk away, but I wanted something to pique people's interest and cause them to go to where they could get their questions answered and read the Gospel. Answers in Genesis had helped me to understand that the entire Bible is defensible, even in the face of questions about suffering and evil. Therefore I had "AnswersinGenesis.org" carved onto it.

Answers in Genesis kindly put our story on their website (answersingenesis.org/docs2003/0610gravestone.asp), and the local paper also did a story on it. Fred is still proclaiming the Gospel now, even after his death.

God has met our needs, and I trust that He will continue to do so. Men (thanks Jess, Roger, and Ted!) have come at different times, both before and after Fred died, to do the heavy fix-it jobs that I can't do. Families have stepped in to care for the children as when, for example, Nita was in the hospital with pneumonia. Mary (what a saint) took all five children Monday mornings so I could shop for groceries with a modicum of concentration. Adult conversation has been hard to come by, but there are Bible studies where child care is provided. MOPS meetings are good too. Through a fantastic series of "coincidences," I have a ring of friends who work at The Old Schoolhouse Magazine. And at night, when the children have gone to bed and quiet descends, and loneliness with it, I have sweet fellowship with Jesus.

Monica Cook and her children take good care of several guinea pigs when they're not exploring Wisconsin. They live in a converted cheese factory surrounded by that superb dairy air.