Valdemar Bowman

Val Bowman passed away on January 17, 2022, peacefully surrounded by loved ones. 

Recording of the service: https://youtu.be/LA7Ostix6WY

Shared photo album (feel free to add your photos): https://photos.app.goo.gl/cMAPqdHVNqUUXqGZ6

We are working to compile addresses to mail memorial cards and a plantable seed card to those close to Val. Please help us by emailing your mailing address to Hilary at Tunes319@gmail.com 

Eulogy from Hilary, daughter

My dad was a good man. He always tried to make people happy, telling them silly jokes, making friends with strangers… no one was too high or too low for him - it didn’t matter to him. He changed the lives of lots of kids at the school where he was a guidance counselor, and formed authentic relationships, because authenticity was the only option. At the same time, he was burdened, as we all are. He didn’t have it easy. He had a lot of obstacles in his time, but he tried his best. It’s not a bad thing to admit that we’re flawed. We are good enough, blessed, and wonderful, even through our struggles. No one is perfect except God. Now he is the best version of himself. He has seen God. He is finally free from his burdens.

I’ve been on my own faith journey lately, but there was something affirming that I felt in his last days. Staying in the hospital with him… talking to him, telling him everything I could think of, offering him my thanks, my forgiveness, and his freedom… telling him it’s ok to let go… and then coming home and reading his notebook. He said …”when I am dead and in God’s heaven (and then in all caps and underlined and highlighted - I hope I am in heaven), I will always, always thank my family for all that is right in the world… I hope to meet you in heaven, and all the children in God’s world.” I never really thought of him as a religious man, but as I read his writing, as the years went on and he got closer to the end, he really got to know God. He believed in God, in heaven, the whole thing. As the hours went on between Sunday morning and Monday afternoon, that night Erik, my mom and I stayed in the hospital with him, Ryan was home with the boys, we were just watching every breath he took all through the night, I couldn’t figure out what he was holding on to or why he wouldn’t let go. But as we talked to him, as I sang to him, as we stroked his hair, I started to feel that he already knew what he was doing and where he was going. He was already with God and just waiting for the right time to let go. My dad hung onto numbers, memorizing them, repeating them, holding onto them as tightly as he could, even as other memories slipped away. The symbolism of the time he chose to let go was a gift to all of us, assuring me that it’s all real. His earthly body wasn’t capable of knowing the time, but God gave his soul the ability to know exactly when to let go and trust in Him, to move forward on his journey to heaven, free, his best self. And as we move forward in life, as we must, I pray that God will help us also to let go and trust in Him. I’m going to try to play a song for you now. It’s a song that has offered me comfort for the last few years. It’s meaning has grown with my dad’s passing. Here are some of the words:

Far be it for me to not believe, even when my eyes can’t see. And this mountain that’s in front of me shall be thrown into the midst of the sea. Through it all, my eyes are on you. Through it all, it is well. So let go, my soul, and trust in Him. The waves and wind still know his name. It is well with my soul. 

I love you dad. I miss you, but like you said, I know we’ll meet again in heaven.  

Eulogy from Erik, son  

We are here today to remember Val Bowman Sr., known alternately as Val, Big Val, Val Sr. and in my case, “Dad.”  His name always had a certain uniqueness, not just because of its rarity, but also because of how he designed it, often spelling it with a stick figure configuration, more of a drawing or symbol than a name. Much like his name, Dad was also unique. Not only in his rarity, being a unique person, with principles to be admired.

Dad displayed loyalty like no other in his care for beloved Aunt Dot. For decades he called her every morning with one ring, just so she knew he was there and cared. He dutifully, and lovingly cared for her in every way as long as I can remember.  A model of earnest caring and commitment. 

As a child in a typical divorced home in the 70s, his commitment to Val Jr, and me never wavered. He was there like clockwork every Sunday until we were old enough to drive, and then was available whenever we wanted to see him thereafter. As much as divorce can separate people in time and space, He was close by, cared about me and made sure he was a part of my life and me of his.

He was an entrepreneur with an aversion to risk like no one else I knew. His artistic talent and desire to create things was evident in his black and white drawings, watercolor painting, decoupage, and sculptures made from various medium. His most quintessential, to those who know him well, was his “Train,” respectfully known as, The Train. Made from scrap metal and various artifacts of daily life, the train contained spark plugs, a motorcycle chain, a lighter, coins, wrenches, transistors and over a hundred various pieces to create, what is to me, a classic piece of American folk art. Cobbled together from left over parts, rusted, and deteriorated, much heavier than you would assume by its look, it was an exploration of his mind.  At once amazingly creative and humble in its approach.

Dad, like the train had humble beginnings.  Those beginnings allowed him to be nice to people in a most sincere way. Never condescending, he truly liked other people.  Those humble beginnings included a mother passing at such an early age, time in an orphanage, and ultimately the saving grace of Aunt Dot,  Life taught him to be self-sufficient, but also to shy from risk.  He always sought security and worried about others. Good or bad, his desire for my safety and security in all things, led to a life of risk taking for me that kept him up nightly for years. I hope it didn’t worry him too much.   I think by the last years of his life, he finally felt like he did not have to worry any more. 

When he first contracted Parkinson and resigned, I went to the school to run an errand for him because he did not want to be seen in his deteriorating state. Listening to the teacher I met, who knew him for decades, talk so fondly of him and how wonderful he was, and me knowing she was but a sample representation of thousands of people he encountered during his life in those schools. I knew his impact was positive and far reaching.  

Dad impacted so many children, teachers, and principals during his career as an elementary guidance counselor, it is impossible to count. He developed and implemented processes to protect the most vulnerable children at schools while also looking out for the well-being and reputation of the principals for which he worked. He was aware of his imposing stature and would offset that with pinky waves to children to put them at ease.  Sometimes it seemed an unfitting job for him, but when you think of his early years, it seems like he may have been trying to help those in need because he knew what it was like to be child in destress and he did what he could to ease that distress in others.

He loved Anne with all he had, adored Hilary, loved Val Jr, and I know he loved me too. His dementia and meaningful retreat from his pain and therefor people, unfortunately overlapped with the birth of my children. Time spent with them was minimal, but he still cared, and I know he wished it had been different. I am sure he will see them in heaven one day and forge relationships with them like he could not here on earth. 

Dad was a good man.   As he read “IF” by Rudyard Kipling when alive, it seemed he was reaching for a philosophical concept to aspire to, a roadmap for being “good”. He is now in heaven and feels no more pain, thinks clearly, and is currently listening to Rudyard Kipling read “If” to him.  “Val” Mr. Kipling would say, “You did indeed fill that unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run and now the Earth and everything in it is yours, and what’s more, you are a Man, my son.”