“The Wolfgramms sailed into a storm; a journey that should have taken 16 hours to Vava‘u stretched into two and a half brutal days at sea. From my Gramma’s journal, she wrote: “We were completely soaked, … battered, and sick, … too weak to eat. … I held Vilimanulea to my chest until finally arriving to Vava‘u.” Yet their trial was not over. The storm left the baby severely dehydrated. With no medicine, the Wolfgramms’ precious son died of exposure. Within two days, they buried their baby in Vava‘u and continued their voyage. For the Wolfgramms, burying their infant child was akin to the pioneers who buried their children on the trail to Zion. Like the early pioneers, they yearned to hear and be in the presence of an Apostle.
Grieving with empty arms, my grandparents got back on the boat, their mission not yet complete. They were sailing toward an Apostle, who held priesthood keys, held the authority for the ordinances that would later seal them as an eternal family. They sailed to sit at the feet of an Apostle, who would teach them their duty so they could bless others on their island with the message of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. You see, my grandparents understood that the gospel restored by Joseph Smith revealed truths previously withheld from them. Joseph helped restore the Savior’s Church with prophets, seers, and revelators who held priesthood keys that would one day bind them together as a family forever. My grandparents girded up their loins, fresh courage took (see “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” Hymns, no. 30), and sailed to be with Elder Matthew Cowley.”