June D. Decker, 90, died October 6, 2007, in Valley Manor Nursing Home, Coopersburg. She was the wife of the late Walter D. Decker. Survivors: Daughters, Carol Decker-White of Va., Patricia Shaw of Fla. Services: Graveside, 10:30 a.m. Friday, Grandview Cemetery, Allentown. Arrangements by J.S. Burkholder Funeral Home, Allentown.
June's plot was prepared ahead of time as the picture indicates, but happily, many years went by before she had occasion to use it. Like her mother, she lived to 90.
Her parents married June 10, 1916, and a bit over a year later, June was born. She was the daughter of Susan Mabel (nee Schell) Dietrich and William J. Dietrich Sr.. She was the only child of this union, each of her parents having been married once before. She was a half sister to Mr. Dietrich's children from his first marriage, William Jr., Ruth, Esther, and Naomi. She was also half-sister to my grandmother Fay.
I remember "Aunt June" very favorably. She was not actually my aunt, but my father's aunt, that is, his mom Fay and June were half-sisters, sharing the same mom, Susan Schell Dietrich. As a family, we did not see a lot of June while I was growing up though my dad visited her and her husband Walter regularly, and continued to do so after Walter died.
It was when Walter died that I saw the kindest side of Aunt June and developed my memory of her as a very gracious lady, even under the pressure of her husband's death. You see, I had not seen June for a long time, but at the after-funeral get-together at her home, she (perhaps like her mom Susan) passed over her own loss and was anxious to see to my comfort, offering food and drink and chatting with me as an adult.
June moved around a lot when she was on her own again, and we lost touch with her. It was not until mid-2006 that I was able to find her again, and by then she was at Valley Manor Nursing Home. She had some form of dementia but was kinder and lovelier than ever. I am unsure if she knew who I was, but nonetheless, the conversation opened nicely with me saying hello, and asking if I could sit with her at dinner, and she grinned and replied "Well, aren't you just a charming person?" She had some difficulties finding words and putting them together, but you could figure out what she meant, even if it came out a little sideways. I had told her that I had stopped to see her when coming from my house to my mother's house, so as I left she said, "Anytime that's the way you go, it'd be nice again". We chatted up a storm that day as well as on subsequent visits, and from then on I continued to visit her regularly, right up until her final hours.
She had a short but difficult passing, the details of which I will not go into here except to say that the tenderest moments I had with her were when she was past being able to speak, but ever so willing to eat the yogurt I offered her on a spoon. I remember bringing a picture of her mother to her bedside, combing her hair, rubbing scented lotion on her arms and legs, and spraying her pillow with perfume. It is hard to know how to bring comfort to people who can't offer feedback, so you talk, and do what you think and hope feels good.
But during that first meeting with her at the nursing home after so many years, besides being her lovely self, she brought back a whirlwind of emotion for me, because when I spotted her across the dining room she looked just like my beloved great grandma Susan, her mom. There were the twinkly, lovely blue eyes, the headful of soft white hair, and the broad genuine smile nestled between high cheekbones. I finally managed to tell her that she looked much like her mom, and she thanked me profusely. So in finding June, it felt in a sense, like I was also being reunited with my dear Nannie.
June's plot was prepared ahead of time as the picture indicates, but happily, many years went by before she had occasion to use it. Like her mother, she lived to 90.
Her parents married June 10, 1916, and a bit over a year later, June was born. She was the daughter of Susan Mabel (nee Schell) Dietrich and William J. Dietrich Sr.. She was the only child of this union, each of her parents having been married once before. She was a half sister to Mr. Dietrich's children from his first marriage, William Jr., Ruth, Esther, and Naomi. She was also half-sister to my grandmother Fay.
I remember "Aunt June" very favorably. She was not actually my aunt, but my father's aunt, that is, his mom Fay and June were half-sisters, sharing the same mom, Susan Schell Dietrich. As a family, we did not see a lot of June while I was growing up though my dad visited her and her husband Walter regularly, and continued to do so after Walter died.
It was when Walter died that I saw the kindest side of Aunt June and developed my memory of her as a very gracious lady, even under the pressure of her husband's death. You see, I had not seen June for a long time, but at the after-funeral get-together at her home, she (perhaps like her mom Susan) passed over her own loss and was anxious to see to my comfort, offering food and drink and chatting with me as an adult.
June moved around a lot when she was on her own again, and we lost touch with her. It was not until mid-2006 that I was able to find her again, and by then she was at Valley Manor Nursing Home. She had some form of dementia but was kinder and lovelier than ever. I am unsure if she knew who I was, but nonetheless, the conversation opened nicely with me saying hello, and asking if I could sit with her at dinner, and she grinned and replied "Well, aren't you just a charming person?" She had some difficulties finding words and putting them together, but you could figure out what she meant, even if it came out a little sideways. I had told her that I had stopped to see her when coming from my house to my mother's house, so as I left she said, "Anytime that's the way you go, it'd be nice again". We chatted up a storm that day as well as on subsequent visits, and from then on I continued to visit her regularly, right up until her final hours.
She had a short but difficult passing, the details of which I will not go into here except to say that the tenderest moments I had with her were when she was past being able to speak, but ever so willing to eat the yogurt I offered her on a spoon. I remember bringing a picture of her mother to her bedside, combing her hair, rubbing scented lotion on her arms and legs, and spraying her pillow with perfume. It is hard to know how to bring comfort to people who can't offer feedback, so you talk, and do what you think and hope feels good.
But during that first meeting with her at the nursing home after so many years, besides being her lovely self, she brought back a whirlwind of emotion for me, because when I spotted her across the dining room she looked just like my beloved great grandma Susan, her mom. There were the twinkly, lovely blue eyes, the headful of soft white hair, and the broad genuine smile nestled between high cheekbones. I finally managed to tell her that she looked much like her mom, and she thanked me profusely. So in finding June, it felt in a sense, like I was also being reunited with my dear Nannie.
June D. Decker, 90, died October 6, 2007, in Valley Manor Nursing Home, Coopersburg. She was the wife of the late Walter D. Decker. Survivors: Daughters, Carol Decker-White of Va., Patricia Shaw of Fla. Services: Graveside, 10:30 a.m. Friday, Grandview Cemetery, Allentown. Arrangements by J.S. Burkholder Funeral Home, Allentown.
June's plot was prepared ahead of time as the picture indicates, but happily, many years went by before she had occasion to use it. Like her mother, she lived to 90.
Her parents married June 10, 1916, and a bit over a year later, June was born. She was the daughter of Susan Mabel (nee Schell) Dietrich and William J. Dietrich Sr.. She was the only child of this union, each of her parents having been married once before. She was a half sister to Mr. Dietrich's children from his first marriage, William Jr., Ruth, Esther, and Naomi. She was also half-sister to my grandmother Fay.
I remember "Aunt June" very favorably. She was not actually my aunt, but my father's aunt, that is, his mom Fay and June were half-sisters, sharing the same mom, Susan Schell Dietrich. As a family, we did not see a lot of June while I was growing up though my dad visited her and her husband Walter regularly, and continued to do so after Walter died.
It was when Walter died that I saw the kindest side of Aunt June and developed my memory of her as a very gracious lady, even under the pressure of her husband's death. You see, I had not seen June for a long time, but at the after-funeral get-together at her home, she (perhaps like her mom Susan) passed over her own loss and was anxious to see to my comfort, offering food and drink and chatting with me as an adult.
June moved around a lot when she was on her own again, and we lost touch with her. It was not until mid-2006 that I was able to find her again, and by then she was at Valley Manor Nursing Home. She had some form of dementia but was kinder and lovelier than ever. I am unsure if she knew who I was, but nonetheless, the conversation opened nicely with me saying hello, and asking if I could sit with her at dinner, and she grinned and replied "Well, aren't you just a charming person?" She had some difficulties finding words and putting them together, but you could figure out what she meant, even if it came out a little sideways. I had told her that I had stopped to see her when coming from my house to my mother's house, so as I left she said, "Anytime that's the way you go, it'd be nice again". We chatted up a storm that day as well as on subsequent visits, and from then on I continued to visit her regularly, right up until her final hours.
She had a short but difficult passing, the details of which I will not go into here except to say that the tenderest moments I had with her were when she was past being able to speak, but ever so willing to eat the yogurt I offered her on a spoon. I remember bringing a picture of her mother to her bedside, combing her hair, rubbing scented lotion on her arms and legs, and spraying her pillow with perfume. It is hard to know how to bring comfort to people who can't offer feedback, so you talk, and do what you think and hope feels good.
But during that first meeting with her at the nursing home after so many years, besides being her lovely self, she brought back a whirlwind of emotion for me, because when I spotted her across the dining room she looked just like my beloved great grandma Susan, her mom. There were the twinkly, lovely blue eyes, the headful of soft white hair, and the broad genuine smile nestled between high cheekbones. I finally managed to tell her that she looked much like her mom, and she thanked me profusely. So in finding June, it felt in a sense, like I was also being reunited with my dear Nannie.
June's plot was prepared ahead of time as the picture indicates, but happily, many years went by before she had occasion to use it. Like her mother, she lived to 90.
Her parents married June 10, 1916, and a bit over a year later, June was born. She was the daughter of Susan Mabel (nee Schell) Dietrich and William J. Dietrich Sr.. She was the only child of this union, each of her parents having been married once before. She was a half sister to Mr. Dietrich's children from his first marriage, William Jr., Ruth, Esther, and Naomi. She was also half-sister to my grandmother Fay.
I remember "Aunt June" very favorably. She was not actually my aunt, but my father's aunt, that is, his mom Fay and June were half-sisters, sharing the same mom, Susan Schell Dietrich. As a family, we did not see a lot of June while I was growing up though my dad visited her and her husband Walter regularly, and continued to do so after Walter died.
It was when Walter died that I saw the kindest side of Aunt June and developed my memory of her as a very gracious lady, even under the pressure of her husband's death. You see, I had not seen June for a long time, but at the after-funeral get-together at her home, she (perhaps like her mom Susan) passed over her own loss and was anxious to see to my comfort, offering food and drink and chatting with me as an adult.
June moved around a lot when she was on her own again, and we lost touch with her. It was not until mid-2006 that I was able to find her again, and by then she was at Valley Manor Nursing Home. She had some form of dementia but was kinder and lovelier than ever. I am unsure if she knew who I was, but nonetheless, the conversation opened nicely with me saying hello, and asking if I could sit with her at dinner, and she grinned and replied "Well, aren't you just a charming person?" She had some difficulties finding words and putting them together, but you could figure out what she meant, even if it came out a little sideways. I had told her that I had stopped to see her when coming from my house to my mother's house, so as I left she said, "Anytime that's the way you go, it'd be nice again". We chatted up a storm that day as well as on subsequent visits, and from then on I continued to visit her regularly, right up until her final hours.
She had a short but difficult passing, the details of which I will not go into here except to say that the tenderest moments I had with her were when she was past being able to speak, but ever so willing to eat the yogurt I offered her on a spoon. I remember bringing a picture of her mother to her bedside, combing her hair, rubbing scented lotion on her arms and legs, and spraying her pillow with perfume. It is hard to know how to bring comfort to people who can't offer feedback, so you talk, and do what you think and hope feels good.
But during that first meeting with her at the nursing home after so many years, besides being her lovely self, she brought back a whirlwind of emotion for me, because when I spotted her across the dining room she looked just like my beloved great grandma Susan, her mom. There were the twinkly, lovely blue eyes, the headful of soft white hair, and the broad genuine smile nestled between high cheekbones. I finally managed to tell her that she looked much like her mom, and she thanked me profusely. So in finding June, it felt in a sense, like I was also being reunited with my dear Nannie.
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