Dear Marilyn,

It was 1976-1977 in Austin, Texas and I met Jere at IBM. Jere worked in one department and I worked in another. We both had the same boss, Ray Thompson. To this date I have always thought about Jere, wondering where he was and always my wife and I kept him in prayer. He helped me turn my garage into a bedroom on a home we had purchased in 1974. Here was so skillful and ready to take off his shirt to give to someone else and help. I remember that one weekend he extended an invitation to me and my wife Connie and to join him and his family to a Seventh Day Adventist event in either Dallas or Ft. Worth Texas. During our breaks at noon at IBM Jere and I would brake away and pray in the parking lot. I always missed Jere and his friendship. 

So, Marilyn, from Connie and Ray Balli please accept our most deepest condolences.

God bless you, always and in all ways.

Ray and Connie Balli
512-796-6471
12602 Parkland Dr
Austin, Texas

I remember jere back in the school year 1959/60 at Union College, I was taking an electronics class and he was our teacher for some of it.  He would "un-fix" old radios and then have us try to figure out what was wrong with them as part of our learning experience.  One I had to try to fix, he had drilled a hole in a capacitor and when we turned it on to see what was wrong with the radio , the capacitor exploded like a firecracker.

Fun times we had.

Gary Eitel

On Friday, November 14, 2014, Mother and I attended the 1PM memorial service on the campus of GRU in Augusta, Georgia, in honor of Dad and 133 other body donors for their medical education programs. Musical selections were interspersed with readings* and remarks by staff and students. We were especially blessed to hear from the students, who regarded these donors as their first patients. They expressed deep gratitude for the opportunity to study these bodies so they could acquire the knowledge to help future patients throughout their careers. Students from several disciplines had benefited: future physicians, physician assistants, nurse anesthetists, physical therapists, occupational therapists, dentists, and medical illustrators. The program included a reading of the donors’ names, a consecration of the cremains by the chaplain, and ended with a bagpipe rendition of “Amazing Grace.” It was all very meaningful and made us realize that these students considered body donations to be the ultimate gift. We came away feeling that Dad’s choice was a high form of stewardship.

Afterward, we walked to the campus memorial garden where, under the shelter of a white awning, a stone engraved “2014” marked an open grave containing the individually boxed remains of the 53 donors whose families chose to have them buried there, including Dad’s. The hedged garden was small, but impeccably kept with a vine covered entry arch, a caduceus sculpture surrounded by a raised flower bed of pansies, wooden benches, and—under a big magnolia tree—a plaque reading, “In memory of those who generously gave their bodies to help future generations through medical research and education.”  As we lingered, the platform bouquets from the memorial service were placed around the grave, and we had the opportunity to express our thanks in person to David Adams and Nan Eaton who had been so helpful when we called GRU with questions. We remained to see the grave filled and the grass replaced. We had a good sense of closure knowing where, and how respectfully, Dad was buried.

…………………………….

*The following touching poem was included and seemed to encapsulate the message of the service.
 

“Anatomy Teacher”
 

When I touched your hands,

I touched hands that had felt

The chill of 94 winters,

Fingers that had stretched in the sunlight

Of as many springs.

 

When I touched your feet,

I touched feet that had walked

The paths of nine decades,

Toes curling and uncurling through

The uncertainty of five wars.

 

When I touched your arms,

I touched the arms that had

Braced you from and embraced the world,

A world I know only through

Historians and faded photographs.

 

When I stared into the shell of your eyes,

I saw the screen upon which

A million irreplaceable scenes had been played,

Visions of a world rapidly changing,

At once both like and unlike my own.

 

When I held your heart in my hands,

In a moment filled with awe and grace,

I held a heart whose mysteries I will never know,

A heart that gave me the gift of itself.

 

When you invited me to know you,

To be a guest in the house that

Your spirit left,

To touch your body more intimately

Than any lover could, you forever altered my life.

 

My feet, with the knowledge of yours,

Will walk into the future

Carrying you with me.

My hands, as they reach out to comfort and heal,

Will do so never forgetting the

Delicacy of yours.

 

My eyes, as they sweep across the

Landscapes of my future,

Will find in it reflections of

The world I saw as yours.

 

My heart, in the rhythm of its beating,

Will carry with it

The stillness and wonder of your heart,

Lying silent in my hands.

 

by Amy Marie Millikan