Remembering John Crabb

John and granddaughter Skye, April 2009


Gene lost a son this week, Lori and Terri a brother, and Beth a husband. I’ve witnessed a sadness come over Gene like I’ve never seen before. A man should not have to bury his son . . . the father should go first. Yet he has been his steady, calm self, comforting others, holding Beth and Lori, his granddaughter Jessica and her children, Skye and Alex. It doesn’t erase the sadness, though, but it does fill the empty spaces with love.

John turned 56 years old this past summer, and in his 56 years he built up quite a roster of friends. His love of history evolved into an expertise in all things related to the Civil War and that period of our history. He and Beth lived a life that centered on perfecting reenactments of Civil War era life and battles. They attended events throughout the Midwest and South, dozens of events held annually in Ohio, Kentucky, Pennsylvania and elsewhere.

And they have photos to prove it . . . John in his period blue soldier’s uniform, long rifle at his side, pipe clamped between his lips; Beth in her hoop skirt, apron and wide rimmed bonnet. It became part of their life style; part of who they are. Their daughters, first Jessica and Ann, then granddaughter Skye, would also step onto the stage, and they became a family of reenactors. Even their wedding was in period dress, John looking his best in his dress uniform and Beth in billowing satin gown with rosebuds in her hair. All the guests came in period clothes as well, with John’s mother in a hoop skirt she couldn’t quite control and Gene in a Naval commodore uniform. It’s impossible to think of John and Beth without the two of them decked out in Civil War regalia. It was a part of their very being.

Which brings me back to the unfairness of it all. Why does a man have to die before his work on this earth is finished. John had a love for teaching others all about the Civil War, the battles, the equipment used, the way of life at that time in our history. He still had so much more to give. Gene has lost a wife and a son, both too young. Yet he enjoys good health. He’s had a premonition that he will live to be 93. Go Gene!

I remember lying in bed when I was gravely ill following the hysterectomy that removed the cancer from my body. Chemo was having its effects and I was nauseated and feeling lousy. Staring into my closet, I had the thought, “This body of mine is nothing more than a suit of clothes draped upon a hangar. It can be tossed aside onto the floor like a dirty shirt. It is the soul aglow inside the costume of bone and muscle and blood that really matters.” Clothes and bodies wear out and are discarded. Souls live on.

We pray that the memory of John and his soul will live on in our hearts.