Judy Klinkert

It is easy enough to give statistics about birth, places she lived and date of death. And I will do so.

But what paints the picture of a person, is what they did and who they were during life. I will try to show that as well.

Judy foremost was a loyal friend. You could not ask for a better wife by your side, especially when things are difficult and life throws you the inevitable curves. Judy would be fantastic at finding solutions and working with you as a team. Her level of caring was evident the first day I was at her place.

I got sick and passed out. Right there in her apartment. In the process I fell on a plant she had in the hallway and broke it into a thousand pieces. Great first impressions! Rather than getting angry at me, she made sure I was comfortable and made me several cups of tea to settle my stomach. I realized even back then that she was someone special.

On another occasion, still early on in our relationship, I had my four wisdom teeth pulled and in customary fashion passed out from the pain. When I came to, I saw her with a cut on her finger that she got while getting out the gauze from my mouth. She was worried that I would choke on it, she said.

This was our third year together. I decided then and there that I wanted her as my wife. We got married days after.

I could fill a book with all the sweet things my Judy did for me and the concern she had for everything we did together. She was always up for an adventure or trip somewhere. When my father passed away in 1981, I had to travel back to Holland to settle the affairs. She was right with me and supported me through the whole process. In fact, she is the only girl who saw where I grew up as a boy, walked the paths I walked, saw the school I attended and even the tree I climbed as a kid.

As for the statistics, Judy was born in Tucson, Pima County, Arizona at St. Mary’s hospital on August 17, 1944. Her mom was Laura ‘Lucky’ Cooper and her dad Leon Brandes. Her mom met her dad through the service. He was Air Force and Laura worked for the U.S.O. show, I believe. Her baby years were in the barracks, where she was not allowed to crawl on the floor, she told me, because of scorpions.

They moved to Denver, Colorado where her dad started a window washing company for all the big businesses at the time. Her mom was active in the synagogue gift shop and later became a sales person at Neusteters.

Judy graduated from George Washington High. She attended Beth Joseph Synagogue.

After her parents split when she was in her early teens, she went with her mom. Life soon became chaotic as is typical for a child of a broken home. In that respect, her life mirrors mine with my parents breaking up when I was about eight years old.

Judy did a couple of years at Teacher’s College in Carney, Nebraska. She worked at Kenner Toys, and at a candy factory and at the Golden Coors Brewery. At some point she moved to California and had several different jobs in different cities. One job was at the famous Cliff House at San Francisco bay. We went there a few years back and she showed me exactly where she worked back then.

She lived at one point near the Cow Palace where she bought a French Poodle at the local pet store. She picked him out from a litter box as he was the one that came over and licked her hand. She named him Pierre. She moved eventually back to Denver. When I met Judy in Denver, Pierre was the dog she had.

When Judy and I met, we did not have very much. I was working the night shift as a computer operator at the Colorado State Judicial Department. She was a security guard for Gold Star Security. I remember she looked pretty good in her little uniform. She had blond hair, kept in a ponytail.

She invited me over at some point to her place and that is when I crashed her plant (a Coleus, I believe).

We hit it off right away. I remember the cold winter nights of Denver, when I would go to her place at 3:00 am . As I was driving through the snow and ice, I would think: ‘I cannot wait to curl up with her’. She was so nice and warm. I remember the first meal she made me was spaghetti and it was really good and I told her so. She called her mom, all excited: “Mom, he thinks I can cook!”.

Thinking back to those early beginnings, it was the first time in my life that I felt ‘home’.

We got a house and got married shortly after, on March 22, 1981. As both Judy and I each had a son from previous relationships, we decided that there would be no more children. At the time, we were in our thirties and felt that it would be enough to just live our lives like that, for each other.

The house in Denver was great. I remember the parties we had with friends coming over and such. From time to time, Judy and I would take a weekend escape into the nearby mountains where we’d hole up and stay for a couple of days. Those escapes were great. They had art fairs, mineral baths and cozy little restaurants and the scenery was terrific.

What else can I say? It went on from there even after we moved to Las Vegas. Just a string of good life. Judy liked to shop. She liked garage sales. She did quite a few of her own as well as flea markets. Her favorite color was blue, her favorite musician Neil Diamond. Her favorite movie: Pretty Woman (I must have watched it with her maybe a dozen times). And there was of course traveling. Short weekend trips to Laughlin, or Mesquite or Primm. Another trip to Holland.

She collected seals, the animal. It started in 1984 with one plaster seal I brought home from one of my job related trips. Little did I know what I was in for. It started a collection of seals numbering in the thousands. Stuffed animals, copper, brass, Italian and Polish crystal, a house full.

Then 2006, she got very sick (diabetic keto acidosis) and I nearly lost her. In 2007, she got a heart attack and again I nearly lost her. In 2008, her kidneys started to fail. In 2009, she was diagnosed with end stage cancer. It was as if someone noticed that she was just having too much of a good life and had to do something about it.

I watched Judy go through immense suffering. The unfairness of it will stay with me forever. For all that to be poured out on such a wonderful human being is beyond my understanding.

In a strange way, the last years of her illnesses brought us even closer than ever. I tending to her as best as I could, learning along the way. 2012 was especially taxing as she went to the hospital about a dozen times. Blood transfusions, removal of water behind the lungs, a final operation, rehab to learn to walk after weeks in the hospital.

After many won battles where she showed incredible courage, she finally lost. I was able to update our wedding ring with additional diamonds and hearts just in time for her to see it and wear it one day in the hospital. She loved it. I had it inscribed with a Dutch saying: ‘Samen Uit, Samen Thuis’, which loosely translated means: ‘whenever we leave together, we come home together’.

After that, she faded quickly with some points of hope for recovery, only to have them crushed one at a time. She had less and less energy and had to be intubated twice as her lungs were giving out.

At one point she still recognized a visiting friend and talked a little. As the friend left and I lifted her oxygen mask to kiss her and asked if I could have another kiss. She whispered: ‘Yes, please’.

That is the last thing she said to me. After that she just slept and slept until the final day at Nathan Adelsons Hospice.

I am just so grateful for all she was to me. It was clearly more than I deserved.

Oh, one more thing: I arranged for side-by-side cemetery plots so I can lay with her again some day. The marker will have our names and dates.

It will also have a saying inscribed on it: ‘Samen Uit, Samen Thuis’.

Arrangements under the direction of King David Memorial Chapel, Las Vegas, NV.