Westmoreland family wrestles with the 'unfair way' virus-stricken father died
Even as her memory increasingly slipped, James Bower Sr. insisted on caring for his wife and keeping the couple together on their three-acre homestead.
But time was taking a toll on them both.
Finally, about three years ago, his five children — four sons and a daughter — convinced him that he was no longer able to care for her and their home on his own.
They eventually settled in Ligonier Gardens Personal Care Home, where they shared a room.
Gertrude Bower, 85, remains shuttered there, with worsening dementia and no knowledge of her husband’s death – one of nearly 20 reported so far in Westmoreland County from covid-19.
“He died in a very unfair way,” Bonnie Hoffer, of New Stanton, said of her 90-year-old father.
An ambulance on April 6 swept Mr. Bower away to Excela Health Latrobe Hospital after caregivers noticed his weakness, slight fever and low oxygen levels. He died there Monday, exactly one week later.
Mr. Bower had limited mobility brought by age but no other health conditions, his family said. That makes the last month and week of his life even more devastating, as the fast-moving coronavirus robbed them of their final moments with him. Like other care facilities, Ligonier Gardens banned outside visitation weeks ago in an effort to help stop the spread of the virus, and residents were quarantined in their rooms in late March after six residents and a staff member tested positive.
Just weeks earlier, Mr. Bower bested residents of the home during a President’s Day-themed quiz about Abraham Lincoln. He told his son Ron Bower, of Pleasant Unity, that he wasn’t much concerned about being quarantined.
“We’ve got some checkers and chess players and that in here, so we can do that,” Mr. Bower said.
Hoffer spoke with him by phone just before the ambulance arrived. It would be the last time she heard his voice.
It was heartbreaking to tell him that he was going to the emergency room “and we couldn’t be there,” she said.
Mr. Bower was reluctant to go. He didn’t think it was necessary.
“I don’t know why they’re taking me,” he told Hoffer. “I really don’t feel that bad.”
“That virus just hits you like a car wreck,” Ron Bower said. “And that’s what happened to him within a day. He was on a ventilator and he never came back off of it.”
Sweeper for a horse
Born in December 1929 in Irwin, he was the son of Earl Guy and Florence V. Bogue Bower. After high school, he joined the Navy, serving during the Korean War.
He and Gertrude married in 1952 after they met at a local 4-H competition. She was showing pigs, he cattle. They passed down their 4-H interest, and Mr. Bower bartered his way to the first of his children’s many show horses.
Mr. Bower was an “old-time huckster,” his family said, having grown up as a boy peddling vegetables from the family garden around mill neighborhoods where his father worked. His brother David drove an old VW van stuffed with J.R. Watkins and W.T. Rawleigh products he peddled door-to-door for decades. Mr. Bower once hawked vacuums as a Kirby salesman.
“He actually traded a sweeper for a horse,” son Terry Bower, of Greensburg, said. “The horse’s name was Trotter. He was a brown and white (American) Paint Horse. My brother Jim was the oldest, so it was his 4-H project at the time. Shortly after that, we got another one.”
The family eventually had 17 horses, specializing in the Appaloosa breed, Ron Bower said.
Dreaded message
Hoffer spoke with doctors and nurses daily during her father’s brief hospital stay, serving as the family contact. Each day after speaking with staff, she tapped out a group text to her siblings.
“It was heart-wrenching to sit there waiting on the texts,” Terry Bower said. “And as the days went by, you would know in your heart that he wasn’t going to get better.”
Then, on Easter Sunday, the worst arrived.
“We’re going to have to consider removing the life support because of his condition,” Hoffer’s message read.
The siblings made the decision unilaterally.
Even if Mr. Bower somehow survived, his lungs would be damaged to the point of needing a constant breathing system, the doctor said.
“Dad didn’t want that,” Ron Bower said.
Hoffer contacted her father through FaceTime the day he died. The conversation was one-sided.
Mr. Bower had been on a ventilator and medicine for a week, without improvement. As Hoffer watched remotely, a nurse asked him to squeeze her hand or wiggle his toes.
He did not respond.
Mr. Bower soon was gone. His family is left without a sense of closure.
“Everything was so out of our control,” Hoffer said. “We couldn’t even be there to love him, up close and personal.”
Legacy lives on
Mr. Bower instilled a strong work ethic in his children. For 35 years, he delivered papers for the Tribune-Review, arriving at the Greensburg plant in the late evening and delivering bundles of papers to stores and carriers in the region until the wee morning. At one time, he had more than 500 customers on his route and recruited his sons for his workforce, said son Ken Bower, of Greensburg.
“It was top priority that the paper got to the customer’s house. I can honestly say that we never missed delivering a paper,” said son James Bower Jr., of Ruffs Dale. His dad was laid to rest Thursday with a copy of the paper at his side.
Mr. Bower served as mayor of Madison for 22 years and was former volunteer firefighter for the borough. He was an active member of the Downtown United Methodist Church.
Hobbies included hunting, gardening, camping and watching Pittsburgh sports. He restored his 250-year-old farmhouse, built a horse barn and sold Christmas trees. He didn’t believe in credit cards or bank loans. He lived off the land, hunting with his boys to fill the family’s freezer.
Each of his children recalled his fondness for ice cream.
“He ate a bowl of ice cream every night before bed. He asked mom to fix it for him,” Hoffer said.
Ken Bower said some of his earliest memories are going to a nearby pond to collect ice and cranking the churn on cold winter weekends with his siblings to make the treat, or in the summer months, heading to Main Street in Madison to Miller’s Inn, where the kids would sit on the hood of the car and eat ice cream cones.
Worried about mom
Another unified decision was to keep the news of their father’s passing from their mother, at least for a while. Dementia has robbed her ability to remember, even to comprehend such news.
“It might do more harm than good,” Ken Bower said.
Gertrude’s sister died recently. Though she went to the funeral home, she still asks about seeing her.
“It’s a very hard thing,” her son said.
The family fears the close living quarters their parents shared, along with their mother’s underlying health issues, make her susceptible to the virus.
“I’m anxious about my mom’s situation but coming to peace with my dad’s situation,” Hoffer said.
“I am concerned about my mom a lot,” Terry Bower said. “It’s a miracle somehow that she didn’t contract this.”
Still, coming to terms with how quickly the virus took their father is hard to comprehend – and likely will prove difficult to move past.
Final farewells were brief, and for immediate family only, as coronavirus has curtailed funeral services.
Terry Bower recalled his last phone conversation with his dad, about a day before he was hospitalized. He was in good spirits, though he was aware of the pandemic.
“I hope this flu gets over pretty soon so we can get back to normal,” Mr. Bower said.
Rebecca (Drumm) is a senior news editor for TribLive and a lifelong Westmoreland County resident. She previously served as city editor at The Valley Independent in Monessen, winning awards for news and editorial writing and page design. A 1989 Duquesne University graduate, she joined the Trib in 1998. She can be reached at bpoole@triblive.com.
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