Christel Van Meter

Last month, our mother, Christel Van Meter, lost a short but valiant fight with cancer. She was 75, an age when she should have been celebrating her golden years, spoiling her grandchildren, and whiling the time away, but the toughest woman I ever knew had met her match. I wanted to share a little of her story below, but it’s a little longer of a read, and more a chance for me to notate my thoughts; she deserves a much more eloquent and complete memoir than I could ever give.

We’ll be holding a celebration of life this Saturday, October 26th at Westlawn Hillcrest in Omaha, with a luncheon after at Bellevue University's Student Center. We’d love any of you fortunate to cross paths with her to join us to share memories and celebrate her indelible spirit. We’ve also established an endowed scholarship in her name at Bellevue University, to be given to single parents who go back to school later in life, to pursue their dream. If you’d care to donate, you can go to https://web.bellevue.edu/payments/make_gift/ and select “Christel VanMeter Scholarship” from the dropdown.

My Mom’s life was a story of resilience and endurance, even though the deck so often seemed stacked against her. She was born in the ashes of post-war Germany, and grew up in a country in turmoil and ruin. Her mother passed when she was a young girl, though her step-mother (our “Oma”) loved her terribly and raised her as best she could. Her two marriages produced two loving sons, but the scars of a still-born third son weighed on her heart for many years, though she didn’t speak about it often. But she fought on, finding a third hope at love in Scott, until he was tragically torn from her after 10 years together, a victim of meningitis.

Mom found comfort in her other love, her job at Bellevue University. When she came to America, two kids in tow and a high school diploma, Bellevue College gave her a shot at the American dream, and a job as a secretary. Through tremendous hard work, she took that and built her future there, while also earning her Bachelor’s, and then her Master’s degrees, as a full-time evening student. What had started as a role in the secretrarial pool led her final role, AVP of Academic Affairs and Dean of Students. Her growth had mirrored that of her workplace, which had grown into a full-fledged University, and I like to think her finger prints were on that growth. Most impressively, she did it as a single parent, raising two sons and finding that delicate balance needed to succeed. Bellevue let her pursue her love for academia and education, and gave her a second family, close friends that have been there since her first days there. She was even encouraged to get her PhD, something she’d dreamed of since coming to America, and was nearing its' completion, when tragedy struck again. In 2003, she suffered a triple sub-arachnoid brain aneurysm, felling her in her prime with damage to her reasoning and memory.

My brother and his wife moved Mom in with them, giving Mom the love and support she needed, and allowing her to spend precious time with my nieces as they grew up. Mom always loved my brother and I, but my nieces were the most treasured gift in her heart. In the shitty situation, we could at least find comfort in the time she got with them. A decade later, with mounting care needs, we moved her to Silver Ridge, which was to be her home until her passing. There she was able to regain some of the independence she desired, while having a community where she could play cards and socialize. When we cleaned out her apartment, I was blown away by the ticket stubs she’d collected – Mom went to more baseball games, casino nights, movies, and church nights than I could have ever dreamed! She even found time to go on a date or two; my brother and I always giggled over her trying to hide her clandestine relationship with Jim, her confidant until the end.

And through it all, my Mom was a tough and stoic, German through and through. I never heard her complain, not about the physical or emotional toll those years after the aneurysm took; about the challenges that she’d had to face raising two hungry boys on a meager salary; about losing her mother when she was too young to understand, and her older sister when was well too aware; about hope and dreams paused far too early.

Until this spring.

After the cancer was found in her spine, and then spread rapidly to her lungs, her brain, her bones; after it robbed her of her ability to walk and took her vision in one eye; after it ripped her ability to savor food, and quieted her requests for a cup of coffee, her daily indulgence for 50+ years. That’s when we saw her ask for mercy. She told my brother and I no more surgeries, no chemotherapy, nothing else but to let her find her peace.

We were fortunate, and were able to get her into Josie Harper house. Flowers and trees rustled outside the windows, a large bird cage filled the hospice with song. Sun streamed in her window, and Mom got to relax. No more machines, no more late night wakeups by nurses. My brother and I took turns spoon feeding her vanilla ensure, her entourage of coworkers and friends and family helped her to know she was loved, and supported. We had two great weeks with her there, saying our goodbyes and embracing her in our hearts. She passed quietly on Sept. 12, putting an end to her pain. We miss her greatly.