Felicia Goeken holding her great-grandaughter, Felicia Donahue.

Our Loss, Heaven's Gain

No matter how expected, the death of someone near and dear often tests us in ways we could never have anticipated. When the woman who passes away is not just your friend but a fiercely loved mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, the loss is all the more poignant. When that death takes place on Christmas Eve, the toll can seem almost more than we can bear.

Felicia Goeken was just such a woman. Felicia died in her home town of Alton, Illinois, when her magnificent heart gave out. She will be sorely missed by a great multitude of family, friends, and people whom Felicia inspired.

In an age of unprecedented mobility, all seven children, 33 grandchildren, and 18 great-grandchildren, along with her husband George, still live in Alton. They were joined at her December 27 funeral by hundreds of people, who began lining up outside the church more than an hour before the funeral mass began.

Felicia is the second champion we lost in a span of two weeks. Like the late Bishop James McHugh, who went to be with his Savior December 10, Felicia was an early pioneer in the right to life movement. The wise counsel and boundless energy of people such as Bishop McHugh and Felicia Goeken helped create the right to life movement, the largest, most enduring grassroots movement of the 20th century.

Felicia's involvement preceded the disastrous 1973 Roe v. Wade decision which unleashed the abortion-on-demand monster that still stalks the landscape. In 1969 Felicia went up to testify in Springfield, Illinois, as a kind of preemptive strike. Some states were already gutting their protective state abortion statutes. Felicia did not want Illinois's law to get caught up in the "abortion reform" maw that was chewing up protective statutes.

Around the same time, Felicia began a personal ministry of coming to the aid of young women-not just pregnant women, but also those who found themselves in abusive relationships. Not surprisingly, in addition to being a founder of the Illinois Federation for Right to Life, Felicia also gave birth to Birthright of Alton, Illinois.

All of us have a story that helps explain why we are called to be a part of this Movement. In Felicia's case, she knew first hand the upheaval that so often follows the loss of a child. She endured the agony of a miscarriage herself in the 1950s. Felicia told her children that this trauma helped her to understand how devastated a woman who deliberately takes her child's life must feel. This painfully earned knowledge made her determined to help women with crisis pregnancies find a life-affirming solution.

In the past 20+ years, Felicia became best known for her down-to-earth, inspirational, call-to-action "Volunteer Identification Program" columns that graced the pages of National Right to Life News almost every issue. Thousands and thousands of you responded in love to her clarion call, forming the foundation of a Movement that has not only persevered but grown in the face of opposition from virtually every powerful institution in our culture.

When her heart finally succumbed at 6:45 in the morning, it had pumped vast quantities of love, compassion, and mercy for 73 years. And, as befits a woman who was gutsy enough to be pro-life back in the days when to stand up for the babies was to court abuse and ridicule, those generous feelings often were not reciprocated.

Just a couple of weeks before Felicia died, her daughter Anne opened a letter which contained a particularly vicious epithet directed at her mother. Just to illustrate the enduring impact of her life, the day after the funeral, a man approached one of Felicia's children and inquired if that *__ __ who had just died was his mother. Some 30 years before, Felicia had helped get this man's ex-wife out of an abusive situation- - and the man's hate still burned all these years later.

Fr. John Paul Klein's tribute to Felicia deeply moved the huge crowd at her funeral. He spoke of the kindness that seemed to emanate out of Felicia and of all the years of tireless labor lovingly given on behalf of unborn babies, those with disabilities, and the elderly. But Fr. Klein could just have easily been talking about the entire Goeken family.

For the last year or two of her life, Felicia endured much pain. Her family responded in a way that did justice to Felicia's own generous soul.

Felicia had broken her foot a couple of years ago. However, when the screw that had been implanted to speed up the healing was removed, the incision never healed properly. Blood often would ooze out of an ulcer-like wound.

Anne and other family members would take turns tenderly putting on lotion and then massaging Felicia's aching feet. For those of us who are Christians, these acts of compassion are a powerful reminder of how our Savior washed his disciples' feet--a living testimony to how we are to minister to the needs of our brothers and sisters...and mothers.

Fittingly, her husband, George spent much of Felicia's last night gently rubbing her legs and spine.

Felicia's Catholic faith was firm, a solid rock on which she stood. Many times she reassured her loved ones that she was not afraid of death. Still, those who loved her will miss not having her near.

But if ever there was a case of our loss, but heaven's gain, it is the passing of Felicia Goeken.

Felicia was buried December 27, the Feast of the Holy Innocents on the Catholic Church's calendar. This commemorates the slaughter of all baby boys in Bethlehem under the age of two, ordered by Herod in order to be sure that he killed "the King of the Jews." Could any pro-lifer ask for a more fitting day to meet her King?

Told of her death, an old and dear friend of Felicia instantly thought of all the little ones Felicia tried so faithfully to help. "Hallelujah," she told Anne, "can't you just hear the babies singing?"

dave andrusko [dha1245@juno.com]