Max Lee Wiggin

Max was born at the Wiggin home on the ranch near Bridgeport, NE and moved with his family to the Ozarks when he was a small boy. Max was such a happy child, always had a smile on his face and was full of laughter. He and Paul spent several years in California together. There they took care of Paul's girls after Paul and Johnny separated. Max worked nights, and Paul days so they could provide baby care round the clock.

Somewhere along the way Max changed his name to Mike and has been nicknamed "Mike" by some of his friends and birth family. He has a daughter, (from a former marriage to Barbara) Michele, who lives near San Jose, CA.

Max lived in Salt Lake City, Utah, for years where he is working as a truck driver on road construction. He married Sharlene Lightfoot, they have a lovely home in Salt Lake City. Sharlene has started a business which is to help adopted children to find their birth parents, called Adoption Connection. Max was employed with Staker Paving for many years. He was a dedicated employee and truly took great pride in his work. He had one daughter.

He was the son of William and Mary Koros and George and Lela Wiggin. And the husband of Sharlene Lawson Lightfoot-Wiggin. Mike was very fortunate to have two wonderful families.

Max or Sharlene did not let any of the family know that Max was ill. Mike was diagnosed with lung cancer a year ago, and fought a brave and courageous battle to the end. He never complained and held his illness with great dignity After chemo treatment, his lost his beautiful head of hair. The doctor told him the cancer was in remission but that it would come back, months maybe years from then. His hair came back in gray, however his mustache came back with color. In December the Doctor discovered a couple small brain tumors. Again after taking chemo everything appeared to be fine. About a week before his death, Sharlene said his hand began to curl up and his walk was affected. He fell last week, she took him to the doctor and large tumors were discovered, one at his temple and one at the nap of his neck. Within a few hours he went into a semi-coma. Sharlene called Betty on Saturday night.

Verne, Betty and Marie left Tusla about 1:00am and headed for Salt Lake City, driving straight through. Sharlene welcomed them with open arms. Max was on a a hospital bed in their living room. They said they know he could hear them because he would smile his lopsided smile and would communicate through raising his eyebrows. Marie said they began to sing softly to him. Sharlene was so impressed with the music that she asked them to continue singing and friends and family visiting would gather around and listen. Soon Sharlene was singing along with them the songs she said were Max's favorite hymns. The one about the Railway to heaven said he has sang that one around their home for years. She was also very receptive when Verne asked if he could pray.

They were with Max until late Monday evening, then headed for their motel. Sharlene called about 3:00 am to tell them that Max had passed away. The neighbor said she woke up about 2:30 and saw a bright light over the house and knew that Max had died. With Verne, Betty and Marie coming ahead of the rest of us and being there with Sharlene before Max died was truly a time of bonding with the family.

We rode up with Lela and Eugene and arrived at the motel after 11 hours of trave. We met Verne, Betty, George and Marie who had reserved a room for all of us, we had two rooms with three full sized beds, and when Cynthia came from Florida the following day, had a cot set up for her. George had just arrived from Alaska, Gay had driven, all alone, 1200 miles from Kansas City, MO., and had flown in from Bentonville, AR., all there to greet us.

We all felt that our time together in the motel was a wonderful time of family bonding. A time of sharing with each other, filled with laughter along with tears as we shared in our grief for the loss of our baby brother, Max/Mike.

After we settled in we drove to Sharlene's, she wasn't home but Marie had a key and we made ourselves at home. Then took our coffee and went outside to relax and wait for Sharlene to come. She had a fit when she saw us outside, but was delighted to see all of us.

Sharlene took us all out to a buffet dinner, her compliments. It was a good time of sharing with Sharlene and her son Jonni and their special friends. Later we went back to her home. We watched Max and Sharlene's wedding video tape. Max and Sharlene met in California, Michele said for years she hated Sharlene because she felt she took her daddy away from her. They were together for several years — said their private vows in January 1983 and have shared a very close and loving compaionship together ever since. However in August 14, 1997 they had a wedding where they officially repeated their vows with family and friends.

Thursday we all headed for the airport to pickup Max's daughter Michele flying in from San Jose, CA and Cynthia flying in from Florida. We hadn't seen Michele since she was about 12 years old at our Grandpa William's 100th birthday celebration. She remembered us. Showed us photos of her year old daughter Sara. She is living with Mark Crouse but they plan to marry in July. She has so much looked forward to her dad giving her away at the wedding, now says they will just plan a small wedding ceremony surrounded by friends.

That evening Max's birth mother Mary Koros Ockinga and his birth brother Jerry and wife Glenda drove in from Scottsbluff, Nebraska. Even though I was only seven years old when Max was born I still remembered Mary. As did Lela. The next day Max's birth brother Billy and his wife Joyce drove in also from the same area. They were driving back the same day — an eight hour drive. Joyce was very interested in my book, so gave her one. Also gave one to Sharlene and one to Michele.

Joyce Koros made the remark how nice it was to meet Max's adopted family and was overwhelmed at the reception from us to their mother Mary. Must have made quite an impression, yet it was from the depth of our hearts that the love poured forth to her.

The funeral services were held Friday, 27 Mar 1998 at 11:00 at the Neil O'Donnell & Sons Mortuary, Salt Lake City, UT. Officiating was John Williamson a very close friend. The Pallbearers were Steve and Jonni Lightfoot, Sharlene's sons, John Williamson, Rudy Jelosek, Mike Brady and Jerry Koros, Max's birth brother. Honorary Pallbearers were Verne and George Wiggin, Max's adopted brothers. The entombment was at the Wasatach Lawn Memorial Park on Highland Drive. The entombment was in an enclosed vault within the memorial building.

The family had the viewing on Thursday evening at the mortuary family and friends. The beautiful floral arrangements surrounded the open casket. It was hard to believe that was our little brother Max's body that we were viewing. He was almost 59 yrs old — so young! It has been too soon since Jimmy died that it is extremely hard for Joy to attend any funeral.

Sharlene asked Max's Wiggin family to take part in the service. Before the services, the casket was wheeled into the family room for last goodbyes. Verne was asked to give the Family Prayer — it was a beautiful prayer! One of the solo songs sung by vocalist Robin Tobey was"True Love" Mike and Sharlene's wedding song.

Remarks were made by Verne and George with Helen adding a few words in remembrance of brother Max/Mike. The family also stood around the closed casket and same three of Max's favorite songs: I'll Fly Away, The Railway to Heaven and Amazing Grace with Cynthia singing solo the first verse. As the family sang Amazing Grace Sharlene walked up and joined us. A very close and special friend and Max's golf buddy Rudy Jelosek gave some remarks, and shared some of Max's life that we didn't know about. They were such close friends that it was terribly hard for Rudy to share but he did fine. Psalm 23 was read by John Williamson.

The following are comments that Helen made at the services.

"When Max joined our family he became one of nine children. My sister Lela and I the older of the family were assigned the responsibility of caring for the younger children. Lela was 8 years old and I was only 7.

Max was my responsibility. I had to get him up in the mornings, change him, bathe him — primarily to be sure he was fed and cared for.

I remember on Sunday mornings I would get him all dressed up for church and comb his beautiful black hair. He was so cute. He was such a handsome young man!

Whenever something would cause him to cry, even before the tears were dry on his cheeks — a broad smile would cross his face and soon would come his bubbly laughter.

At times as he was growing up when he got into trouble, I wondered if I had done a good job raising him. Yet looking over his life, he turned out to be a wonderful brother, so loving and caring, truly a fantastic person.

Things I will remember most about Max are his 'Hi Sis' when he greeted me, his bright smile, and infectious laughter. Good by Max/Mike, we love you and will all miss you very much!"

The words of the railroad song I felt were worth recording.

"Life is like a mountain railroad. With an engineer that's brave. We must make the run successful, from the cradle to the grave. Mind the curves, watch the tunnels. Never falter, never fail. Keep your hand upon the throttle and your eye upon the rail. Precious Savior thou wilt guide us till we reach that Blessed shore. Where the Angels wait to join us, in thy praise forever more."

This was the first time we had ever been to an inside entombment. George closed with a Dedication prayer of Entombment. The place was beautiful, an inscribed stone with Max's name and appropriate dates will close the entombment. The family had purchased a huge floral arrangement with one dozen roses, several of us took a rose from it. We had place two red roses in the casket representing our brothers Bob and Max who have preceded us in death.

After the services we all met at a restaurant where the family had reserved a table and had prepared a light buffet lunch. Soon afterwards several family members where heading out. Gay had Joy traveling with her because was unable to change her flight to a later time, Verne, Betty and Marie were all on their way back to their respective homes. Late that night we took Cynthia to the airport -- she was excited to see it snowing. The next morning left George waiting at the motel for friends and Lela, Eugene, Bob and Helen headed back to Arizona. A snow storm had hit in the area that night so Salt Lake City was covered with snow. Highway was clear, however we drove into the storm in full force at Flagstaff, AZ. It was snowing and lots of snow on the highway that was soon closed to traffic shortly after we passed through.

Having nine of Max's brothers and sisters come to his funeral was truly a touching tribute to a loving brother.

Max was always a cutup, a real jokester. So it was hard to really get to know him. But, at mom’s funeral he was serious, talking about his life. He told about his birth family (Max — and I, and others of us kids — never discovered he was adopted until he was 21), meeting his birth mother and two brothers, and what it felt like to be part of two families. After Max returned home — his last trip back — I wrote him of some of my struggles and sent him some of my “family” writings. He never answered, but that was okay.

The call came Saturday night about 7:30. “Max has cancer of the brain, is in a semi-comma and is dying.” Betty and Verne and I, on a conference call to each other, decided immediately to be with him in his final hours. We left Tulsa at 1 a.m. Sunday morning and, driving straight through, were with Max at 9 p.m. that evening. I’d silently prayed two prayers all the way there — that Sharlene would be glad we came, and that Max would know us. Betty later told me she had prayed those same two prayers. Our family was also praying for Max.

Sharlene met us at the door. “I don’t know you,” were her first words. We introduced ourselves and she graciously invited us in.

A Hospice nurse was with him. I walked over to Max’s hospital bed, set up in the living room, and said, “Max, this is your sister Marie. Verne and Betty and I are here. You know it’s your Wiggin family; we’re the only one who calls you Max.” (Everyone else knows him as Mike.) I gently rubbed his shoulder and it reminded me we were not a touchy family. I stepped aside so his favorite sister Betty could touch him. (Betty and Bobby, twins, only two years older than Max, were also adopted, which always gave them a special bond.) As Betty talked, Max’s bushy eyebrows moved, his eyes opened, and one side of his mustached lips moved ever so slightly.

“Look, he’s grinning,” Betty exclaimed, as Verne drew near to touch him also.

“He definitely knows you are here,” the Hospice nurse assured us. She said he was not in a coma, just heavily sedated. Sharlene wanted us to know the next hour’s goals were to help Max die with dignity, with loving family and friends surrounding him. They explained, the hearing is the last thing to go, so he could hear us. We were given some literature to read, explaining what to expect as death approached. Son Jonni and his partner Amy were there. Jonni had lived with Max since he was ten. I recognized his pain.

Sharlene told us she was glad we were here. “But the nights are mine,” she said. “That’s my time to be alone with Max. I won’t give that up.” We understood. We were tired, and after spending about an hour with Max we found a dumpy motel nearby. In the night I asked God what our purpose was in being here. He reminded me how my sister Gay had talked of singing hymns to mom when she was dying. I could sing hymns! And quote scripture!

We returned to Max’s bedside about 9:30 Monday morning. Sharlene seemed so glad to see us. Max’s journey into death was progressing and he was given more and more morphine. We immediately joined her around Max’s bed. “Why hadn’t Max told us?” we asked. He was diagnosed with lung cancer nearly one year before. But he was going to beat it. Sharlene told us he would get up in the mornings, take his chemotherapy, and go on to work. He did beat it, though he lost his hair. It had started to grow back when they discovered brain cancer two days after Christmas. Again, he took chemo and was going to beat it. But he never went back to work. Only five days ago, on Tuesday, he begin experiencing problems — a foot lagged, his speech slurred — and by Thursday he was under Hospice care in a hospital bed in his living room.

Throughout the day friends and family flowed in and out to say their last goodbyes. Verne and Betty and I tried to be sensitive to everyone’s need to be with Max. Sharlene seemed to feel safe leaving his bedside as long as we were around him. When I was alone with Max I began singing songs he’d known as a child — Jesus Loves Me, Amazing Grace, In The Garden, Coming Home. During one song I broke down and sobbed for ever so long. They told us it was alright for Max to hear us cry.

His wife and friends gave us a special gift as they introduced us to the Max we hardly knew, telling what a kind, gentle, sensitive man he was, a hard-worker. Sharlene showed us a photo album mom had made for Max. On the front page mom had written how Max, as a child, loved the Railroad song. Betty and I tried to remember the words and we finally wrote out all we could remember and guessed at the rest. Then she and I stood by his bed and, in her beautiful soprano and me trying to harmonize, we sang,“Life is like a mountain railroad, with an engineer that’s brave.” Betty had to turn her back to Max in order to sing that song without crying.

Sharlene sat in another room with friends, when she said, “Did someone turn the radio on? Where’s that music coming from?” She rushed in to find us singing to Max.“He often sang Amazing Grace and talked so much about your family and going to Bible School as a child,” she said. We continued, singing Amazing Grace and I’ll Fly Away. After that, she often grabbed everyone in the house and made them come and stand in a circle holding hands around Max’s bed while we sang those three songs, then she would asked Verne to lead in prayer.

Sharlene was curious about our faith. All she knew was Mormons’s and their forced testimonies. When Verne told her he was charismatic, she said, “Do you raise your hands and say hallelujah and have snakes?”

“I raise my hands, but no, we don’t have snakes,” Verne laughed. Verne had nearly completed EMT training, so he offered to take Max’s blood pressure and heart rate. After that Sharlene clung to him like he was a doctor. Any change in Max’s labored breathing and she would call for Verne. We didn’t go there with any agenda, just to see Max and to help in any way we could, and that’s exactly what she needed.

When the Hospice nurse arrived she told us, now it would just be a matter of hours. Max was laboring so to breathe. How brave he fought. His shoulders heaved up with each breath and I thought of Jesus on the cross. I quoted John 3:16 in Max’s ear and reminded him how he had accepted Christ as his Savior when he was a child. “Jesus has never left you. He loves you so much and He is waiting for you to come home,” I told Max. “It’s okay to go. You don’t have to stay here. It’s alright.”

Sharlene called Max’s daughter and put the phone to Max’s ear while Michelle listened to his breathing and said her final farewell. She later told us she was crying so hard while she told her father it was okay, he could go, he didn’t have to stay for her, she would be alright.

Two people had a specially hard time telling Max goodby — his step-son Steve and his best friend Rudy. We all cried for them. Their faces were red from weeping when they finally arrived at the house. They’d had to prepare themselves a long time. When each of them finally stepped up to the bed to say goodbye, we all slipped quietly into the other room to give them quiet time alone with this person they had a special relationship with.

This night Sharlene said we didn’t have to leave. She’d had many quiet moments talking to Max all day. But we decided to get some sleep, as we were quite exhausted. We found a nice motel this time. The phone woke us up shortly after 2:30 in the early Tuesday morning. Max was gone. We rushed back to the house so we could spend some final moments with him before the ambulance arrived. Sharlene couldn’t watch them take him away, so Verne and Steve and Jonni helped carry Max’s body away, while we waited in other rooms.

After he was gone, Sharlene rushed into the room where they were tearing down the bed. She began screaming and sobbing as she threw off the lovely spread and blankets“Take them away. Get these covers out of here. I don’t want to ever see those again. That’s what he died in.” Friends gently pulled her from the room. When the bed was gone Verne took the vacumn and began cleaning the floor. Her sons brought back the furniture which had been removed to make room for the bed and I dusted. When the room was clean Sharlene came in and sat down. She was calm. “I just want to be alone for awhile.

Verne and Betty and I went back to the motel. I couldn’t sleep so Betty and I went to Dennys next door and ate breakfast. Then we caught a couple more hours sleep. We returned to the house about 10 and spent the day by the phone, calling our family, just being there as friends called, while Sharlene went to the funeral home to make arrangements. Verne vacuumed the rest of the house. I dusted and did some laundry, hoping it wouldn’t offend Sharlene. It didn’t. She was so glad we were there. We had already learned to love and trust each other.

Sis, a friend of Sharlene’s we’d learned to love, came by. She told us the strangest thing. At about the time Max died, a neighbor across the street said she suddenly wakened and sat up in bed. She looked across the street and saw a bright flash above the house. When they called her later and told her Max died, she said, “I know.” Could the light have been angels carrying his soul to Heaven? I like to think so.

Wednesday our family began coming in. First, George came from Alaska. His church bought his airline ticket for him. Gay drove in from Independence, Mo. Joy flew in from Fayetteville. Lela and Helen and husbands drove up from Mesa, Az. Thursday morning we all went to the airport to pick up Max’s 27-year- old daughter; my first time to meet Michele. While we waited for Cynthia, who was flying in from Florida, we took Michele to lunch. What a sweet time of getting acquainted. Michele told us she had become a Christian five months ago. She had visited her dad just a few weeks before and was able to tell him about knowing Christ. “I asked him if I could pray with him and we did,” she said.

Paul was the only one who didn’t come. We never asked anyone to come. Each one made their private decision, feeling the need to be together at this time. Cynthia also had a miracle story to tell. She so wanted to be with us to say her final goodbye to her older brother, but she really couldn’t afford the plane ticket,. Cynthia’s husband said, “If the people who bought our house in Texas send a payment, I guess you could go.” They hadn’t sent any money for a few months, and Cynthia said, “Well, that would be a miracle.” The next day a check came in the mail and our baby sister was able to come! We dropped Michele off at Sharlene’s and went back to the motel.

Time became a blur. I had trouble remembering what day it was. Food didn’t seem important. Sharlene took us all out to eat at a buffet one night. I think it was Wednesday. One evening Max’s best friend Rudy brought in pizzas; Betty bought Kentucky Fried Chicken for lunch; Jon and Amy brought in bagels.

There were 11 of us and we got two rooms with three double beds in each. We wanted to be together. Us girls talked and laughed and cried. I said, “My recovery group would be so proud of me expressing my emotions.”

Sharlene asked George and Verne to speak briefly at the services; and she wanted our entire family to sing Amazing Grace and Railroad and I’ll Fly Away. All us brothers and sisters gathered in one room to make arrangements to go to the viewing, and the funeral. We talked about what to share and practiced our songs. We all talked about what Max meant to us, things we remembered. We told each other, “I love you.” We bonded tighter. Gay video taped it.

We spent two hours at the funeral home during the viewing. I felt so sorry for Michele. She looked ready to drop. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” she told us. Sharlene was very careful to keep her close by her side. We finally left to get something to eat. Chinese.

The funeral was 11 a.m. Friday. It was different. Friends and family began gathering at 10, one hour before the service. Though Max was bald, he looked so nice in his sweater decorated with golf clubs that Rudy had given him for Christmas. Just before the service his open casket was wheeled into the “family room” and each one got the opportunity to put a memento of love into the casket and say a final farewell. Betty slipped in an angel and two roses, one for Max and one for Bobby, from the spray with a dozen roses we had gotten for him. This was the sad time. The casket was shut forever. It was so hard for Sharlene and Michele.

The service was a time of joy, of remembering. As our family sang our songs, we closed with Cynthia singing the first verse of Amazing Grace, then we all sang the second verse. When we asked the congregation to join in singing the last verse, Sharlene jumped up and stood with us. How fitting. We had lost a brother on this earth, but gained a sister.

It was a hard week. It was a glorious week.

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