A Missionary Life:
Rev. J. Wesley Day
China, Malaysia, Indonesia


Completion
June 5, 2005
by Jackson H. Day


Wesley Day died June 5, 2005. He would have been 95 years old in less than three months. Age had taken its toll.

In his marvelous book, "How We Die," surgeon Sherwin Nuland recalled an earlier era in which on July 5, 1814, 71-year old Thomas Jefferson wrote to 78-year old John Adams, "But our machines have now been running seventy or eighty years, and we must expect that, worn as they are, here a pivot, there a wheel, now a pinion, next a spring, will be giving way; and however we may tinker them up for a while, all will at length surcease motion."

Four years earlier, on March 25, 2001, I had already taken over preparing his income tax returns. In a letter forwarding tax information, he added,

In August, 2002, daughter Vivia hosted a family reunion and 92rd birthday celebration at her home in Allenwood. She was planning to move to North Carolina, and this was the last August such a reunion could be held. Friends and relatives came from far and near. On Sunday morning, I conducted a communion service.


We had a tape of Wesley's father preaching his last sermon about 1960, and got a photo of Dad listening to it.


Then we went across the street to Dunroven and posed for a group photograph.

Wesley's children, nieces and nephews. Jack Day, Vivia Tatum, Jeanne Simmons, Roby Day, Bonnie Ambruso, Chapin Day


In 2004, Wesley Day's health began to fail. It was very gradual and nothing ocurred that caused alarm. He fell asleep with increasing frequency, but he had always been able to catch a nap when the opportunity was right! Much mail was now going unanswered, but for the most part that wasn't noticed until it was time to dispose of things, and much unanswered mail was found.



Gone were the days when Christmas letters would be sent to his many friends around the country. Increasingly, those friends had passed on.

On March 24, 2005, friends picked him up at Francis Asbury Manor and took him to St. Paul's United Methodist Church in Herbertsville so that he could help serve communion at the Holy Thursday Communion service. He slept through part of the service but accomplished the important parts.

On April 1, my wife and I visited him at Francis Asbury Manor. I will always be grateful to the IRS; it was the need to make sure I had the right papers to do his taxes that prompted the trip. When we arrived we discovered he had forgotten we were coming; that was the first time that had ever happened. Getting ready to go out -- the weather was cool -- he was confused, imagining that he had to pack for an overnight trip. Convinced that that was unnecessary, we went out to a favorite watering hole, the "Princess Maria Diner" down route 35. His sweet tooth prevailed and he did justice to a large slice of strawberry cheesecake. It was the last time that he would be with us in his right mind and be able to converse. Fran and I went on to my son's home in Somerset.

Four nights later the call came saying that he was in intensive care at the Jersey Shore Medical Center in Neptune, New Jersey; Francis Asbury Manor had sent him there because he wasn't acting himself. We drove there that night. It appeared to us that he had fallen and hit the back of his head; discoloration was beginning to spread. By the next day it was clear from MRI's that he had sustained a serious brain injury. After a week's stay and stabilization, he was transferred to Fountain View Care Center in Lakewood, NJ, where his granddaughter Brenda is a speach therapist.

For two months he held on. From the time of the fall, there were times of occasional lucidity, times of silence, and times when it was clear he was somewhere else. Once while he was at Jersey Shore Medical Center, it was clear that in his mind he was attending an important meeting. I overheard the phrase "local leaders" and "Oberlin Man." I had just read a page of his autobiography and I could tell he was back in 1937, negotiating passage and safety with the Japanese.

His wit overcame his increasing disabilities. It was reported that when he was first taken to the hospital on April 5th, he had been asked if he knew why he was there. He answered, "It must be for someone else's benefit."

One day when Fran and I were waiting with him for his hair to be cut, I told him that after the haircut he would be so handsome that people would remark on it. He responded, "I'm certainly glad of that, Jack."

Once at Fountain View, I wore a sweatshirt with a Chinese character on it, with the English translation below, "pretentious." I asked him if he recognzied the character and without hesitation he responded, "Chun".

By the end of May he was swallowing with increasing difficulty, and soon he could no longer eat. Systems were shutting down. On Friday, June 3rd we received the call that it would be good to see him. Fran and I drove up from Maryland that evening. My son Jim came down during the day Saturday. We read psalms to him. Vivia and Jim arrived from North Carolina.

The next morning I drove back to Grace Church in Maryland. I had thought it over and decided that Dad would have wanted me to be in church that morning. "Someone in the family is preaching." Services over, I checked the telephone at the church. Vivia had left a message: Dad had died peacefully and taken his last breath at 12:05 PM.

Many churches would have been appropriate for his funeral, but we felt that the church where he had worshipped most recently, St. Paul's UMC in Ocean Grove, would be the right place, especially since many who knew him from Francis Asbury Manor would be able to attend. The pastors from St. Paul's Ocean Grove and St. Paul's in Herbertsville conducted the Service of Death and Resurrection on June 11th. Then we drove to Allenwood, and buried his ashes in the family plot. He had requested cremation so that there would be room for him without cutting down the tree that had grown up in the family plot; he liked the idea that he, his wife, his parents, and his brother and his wife would all lie there in the shade.

I had a chance to say a few words at the funeral: