Brothers and a '57 Chevy

My uncle Al Ediger passed away July 6, and I was able to attend the funeral on Saturday in Grand Island, Nebraska with my parents and sister.

When I think about my uncle, this story that my mom often tells gives a good illustration of the unassuming and thoughtful man he was.

My mom was sixth out of seven kids. Her sister Kathrine was 2nd. The rest were boys. Even though there were five, my mom says, "I never felt like I had too many brothers. I liked them all."

My grandpa Ediger would never be described as "trendy" or "flashy," but he did get a new car every few years, and he was a Chevrolet man. In 1957, he traded in his old car for the latest model. He was surprised and possibly a little embarrassed when his sons expressed keen interest in this fancy '57 Chevy.

At a family gathering about a decade ago, my mom asked if anyone had a picture of that car. I don't know what was said, but months later a package was left on her doorstep. Inside was a framed picture of her family's '57 Chevy. Her brother Al, who drove a pilot car for the last 15 years of his life, had made a detour through Hillsboro to drop it off. My mom was touched by the thoughtful gift, and disappointed that she had happened to run to the grocery store that day and missed his surprise visit.

A few years later, Al called to say he would be driving through Hillsboro that evening and asked if he could stop by. She said that would be fine. It was a few days after Christmas, but on the Epp side we don't usually get together to celebrate until the 28th or 29th, so our family was actually all together reading the Christmas story and opening presents when he arrived. I think he was surprised to find a houseful of people, Typically shy, Uncle Al said he didn't want to intrude, but we insisted he stay for a while. His visit made our Christmas extra special that year.

Al was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer June 6, a month before he died. From what my cousins tell me, they used that month to say goodbye to him, to say the things that in our busy, surface lives don't always get said. Al asked them deep questions about their spiritual lives. They reassured him, he encouraged them. He made sure all of his grandchildren knew that they could ask Jesus into their hearts, and at least one of them did. Then he was ready.

At his request, his cremated remains were placed in a stainless steel box crafted by his oldest son, and driven to the cemetery in his pilot car. Al, however, wasn't there. He'd already taken the highway to heaven and reunited with his brother and grandson, and all the others that have passed before.