Goodbye
This following was written for family, friends, and co-workers who knew and loved Wanda. It was also written for those who didn’t know her well or not at all but felt they did through following the blog. But most of all, it is written for Wanda and me. For her, because she deserves to be honored in such a way, and for me, because I need to honor her by doing it. Part obituary, part memorial, and part eulogy, it wasn’t easy to create for many reasons. But here it is. Thank you for reading.
Wanda Lee Schuster was born in Cleveland, Ohio, on April 11th, 1953. Her family soon moved west like so many (mine included) to California in search of, I assume, at the very least, better weather.
Except for a stint at Winchell’s Donuts, Wanda never had a job that wasn’t healthcare related. She started at Palomar Hospital in Escondido, CA., as a ward clerk, a.k.a. unit secretary. In 1976, she earned her LVN from Mira Costa College in Oceanside, CA., and began working in Palomar’s Emergency Department. And then, in 1979, she gave birth to her daughter Angie.
Things didn’t work out with her first husband, Angie’s dad, and they soon divorced, leaving Wanda to care for Angie alone. In 1986, desiring a better living and to better care for her daughter, Wanda earned her RN from Palomar College in San Marcos, CA. Impressively, she went to nursing school while working nights and caring for a young child, and she did so with little help.
I became an EMT in 1986 and got my certification from the same college. After several years on the streets of San Diego in an ambulance, and as fate would gloriously have it, I got a job as an ER technician at Palomar. Our paths were about to cross, and a life-changing love story was about to begin.
Palomar Medical Center is a level II trauma center, and after many years as an ER nurse, Wanda transferred to the Trauma Department, where she served as a Trauma Clinician. In addition to teaching, building databases, and trauma research, one of her duties was to ensure accurate documentation, beginning with the trauma code in the Emergency Department. And this is where I come in. One of my duties was to document trauma codes, and my charting was subject to quality review. And guess who did that?
We worked together for some time, sometimes in the trauma room, sometimes simply passing in the hallways with nothing more than a smile and a hello. But things changed at the ER’s annual Halloween shindig, where we first became aware of each other in a more than professional way. We began dating and things moved quickly, and on March 26th, 1996, we were married.
Two months later, we loaded everything we could into the back of a pickup truck and headed to Alaska with no jobs and no idea where we would live. But we survived and had a lot of adventures in the great white north, living there for 13 years in Anchorage, Eagle River, and Ketchikan.
Over the next 14 years, we lived in Wisconsin then Florida and then we returned to Wisconsin. In addition to ER nursing, which she did for 33 years, Wanda had various nursing roles from one end of the country to the other. She served as stroke coordinator in an ER in Florida and helped design and open a fast-track (urgent care) portion of a brand-new ER in Alaska. Her last role was in clinical documentation improvement, which she could do from home. All told, Wanda was a nurse for over 45 years and was in healthcare even longer.
That is a long time, and she witnessed a monumental amount of change. Wanda used to tell stories that when she started in the hospital, doctors were allowed to smoke at the nurses’ station, and nurses were expected to give up their chairs to doctors whenever they walked in. Wow.
As most of you know, in May of 2021, Wanda was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. And if anything good could be said about that, it did get her to retire. We then began a 31-month “journey” that we would have preferred to have never taken. It encompassed six medical centers, over 15 doctors, and countless medications, appointments, tests, scans, and treatments. But like everything else we did in life, we did it together, hand in hand.
Wanda passed away in the hospital on January 10, 2024, at 7:00 am, minutes before I arrived to see her. She is survived by her daughter Angie, her grandchildren Stella and Charlotte, brothers John and Eric, her sister Gail, and her forever adoring husband Scott.
***
There will be much more regarding our cancer journey and the many faces of grief in the future in what I think will be an upcoming book. But this is about honoring my wife in the moment. And now I am going to do so.
***
Wanda was the kindest, sweetest, and most beautiful soul I have ever known. I can’t believe I was lucky enough to not only have known her but also to have had the honor of calling her my wife for literally half my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve her.
I loved the way she loved me; I loved the way she loved her daughter and granddaughters; I loved the way she loved her friends. I loved her spirited and open view of the world, filled with innocent wonder and childlike curiosity. I loved riding through the countryside and listening to her comments on the scenery passing by. “Look at those clouds and those colors. Oh, what a beautiful barn! Look, there is a bunch of deer in that field…they’re so pretty”. And while the view was pretty, it paled compared to her.
I loved the way she cried every time she heard the national anthem. I loved how she said please and thank you to everyone, including me, for whatever small thing I may have done for her, even after all those years. And I loved how she always said she loved what I cooked for her, even when it wasn’t that great.
Her caregivers, co-workers, and new and old friends all say the same thing- being with Wanda meant having a smile and serene and comfortable happiness in your heart. It was impossible not to. She was magnetic; people wanted to be near her and her calm and soothing energy. Her inner beauty was on display up until the end.
She extended innate respect and human kindness to all, the homeless or mentally ill, in the ER or on the street. When an elderly patient was in the ER, sick, alone, and scared, she would hold their hand or stroke their hair and listen intently to what they had to say, and she did it with eye contact, genuine concern, and a smile. She was comforting and compassionate, what a great nurse should be first and foremost (see the attached letter in the photo section).
Comforting, compassionate, pure of heart, authentic, these aren’t things you learn in nursing school. They are part of who she was.
God, I miss her. Every day, I’d walk George in the pre-dawn darkness and then put him on the bed by her side. I’d bring her meds and a cup of coffee, kiss her forehead, and check to see if she was OK, and when I knew she was, I’d thank the heavens that I had at least one more day with her.
I miss taking her to Michaels to buy yarn or art supplies or sitting at Panera Bread in the morning, her with her favorite orange scone and a cup of black coffee, hands wrapped around the mug for warmth, talking about life and, all too often, her illness.
She faced cancer with unimaginable courage and grace. There was never a “why me” moment. I remember when we first realized this was metastatic disease and we knew what that meant, her first instinct was to tearfully tell me that she didn’t want to put me through this. I have never met a more selfless person.
I miss simply being near her, and I will never get over losing her, this I know, but I will find a way to go on and somehow find my way in a colder and duller world that forever will be missing something extraordinary. There are few things more challenging in life, but I must do it, if not for me, for her.
She was truly a part of me, the best part, and was my biggest supporter and fan, as I was hers. We were joined in a way I didn’t know was humanly possible; our souls were and will forever be entwined. Ultimately, I will miss her unfailing, unconditional, and endless love, a love that lit the darkest parts of me and all of life itself.
Goodbye, my sweet baby. I will always love you.
Wanda Lee Sonnenburg
04/11/53-01/10/24
Photos
The oldest known photograph of us at our wedding reception/party in the Spring of 1996. The effects of the nearby margarita machine can clearly be seen.
Hiking near Thompson Pass above Valdez, Alaska.
Hanging out and enjoying some spring sun with Moose in our driveway in Eagle River, Alaska.
When we lived in Ketchikan, Wanda was part of an all-female sailboat racing team on a vessel called “Kermit.” She said it was one of the hardest things she ever did but was also one of the most fun. I’d sit on the shore, cheer them on, and watch them dodge cruise ships.
Fighting a losing battle against the snow.
This was from when we worked together in an ER in Anchorage, and it says it all about her and her compassion. It is amazing how life comes full circle.
Now, for a slight change in scenery. From Alaska to Florida with quick stop in Wisconsin.
Holding her granddaughter. Such a peaceful and contented look.
At Angie’s wedding, Cancun, Mexico. So beautiful.
With granddaughters Stella and Charlotte, and of course, George.
Celebrating my 50th birthday.
She was so strong.
At the Lyle Lovett show in Bayfield, Wisconsin.
I am not the only one who adored her.
I’ve decided to divide these pictures into pre and post-diagnosis. This was done not to emphasize the physical changes evident with the disease process, which are apparent, but because May 11th, 2021, was a dividing line between two entirely different lives for both of us, for good and bad. Notice how one thing never changes: her smile.
One of our favorite things.
Going to breakfast on a cool Autumn day, sitting lakeside in Minocqua.
I debated including pictures like this, but it is part of her story. And I feel that process, as challenging as it was, needs to be illuminated and acknowledged for what it was.
I love this. Anyone who knows Wanda and knows the character from Yellowstone knows how funny this is. There couldn’t be two more different people.
Wonderful shot of Wanda and her rapidly growing granddaughters.
Some pictures need no explanation- pure joy. This was from one of our Harvest Hosts stops, and as evidenced by that smile, those trips accomplished everything I wanted them to. Getting both of our minds off our reality and just having fun. It was the best summer of our lives.
Some of my favorite things-
A crisp, beautiful Autumn day with pumpkins, and my best friend (and a giant cow).
The 4th of July I believe.
The edema in her legs due to the medications was severe at times, so she had to elevate her legs often. It didn’t seem to affect her spirit, though. She took so much in stride. What a grin.
Our Harvest Hosts profile picture. Who wouldn’t want to entertain us?
Cheers, baby.
Wanda at work in her little art studio on a winter day. You can see the stockpile of rocks waiting for her special treatment.
Wanda in her happy place, shopping for yarn. The wheelchair barely slowed her down.
And this was what the yarn was for. She knitted countless hats and scarves to be donated to veterans in homes and troops overseas. Each one got a card with a personal touch-a message and a little heart.
This is from the summer of 2020. A perfect day, one of many.
I somehow knew when I took this picture that it would be part of remembering her at some point. I didn’t quite grasp how soon that day would come. To me, this picture symbolizes everything I was lucky enough to know and love for nearly 30 years. Pure, innocent and timeless beauty that takes my breath away.
Wanda and her sister Gail right after scattering their mother’s ashes at sea. It is a beautiful way to acknowledge the circle of life and bring this post to a close. Thank you all for your time and attention. We love you.
This morning
I cried missing you.
I smiled remembering you.
I felt lost without you.
I sensed your presence near me.
I wished you could come home.
And I thought of the day
we will be reunited…
All within the same minute.