Dark Day

Either today was particularly gloomy or we have entered that time of the year where the sun is a scarce commodity. I tunneled through the gloom with my lights on bright for most of the way to work. What a change from the past few weeks where I’ve been able let my mind wander as I looked for deer and watched the leaves darken and then fall. I wish it would stay fall for at least another month. Spending most of the daylight hours inside at work wears on me as the year goes on. I love the first few weeks of snowfall, but then the months begin to grow longer while the light shortens. No wonder early settlers, particularly women, often suffered severe bouts of depression. In fact, many would arrive here with their husbands and family from warmer climates. Imagine trying to endure a Minnesota winter with a single room sod house? No wonder many of the women lost it and were sent off to asylums to recuperate as soon as the weather would allow, usually in the spring. Of course, by the time they got better, usually around the fall, they were shipped back home - only to endure the harsh winter and lack of light all over again.


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Friday night Kristie got a shock. Her father arrived unexpectedly from South Dakota. He was in East Grand Forks at his mother’s. When Kristie called him, she learned that her grandmother, Theola, was dying from lung cancer. None of Theola's children wanted to deal with it. Well, one would have, but she tends to dominate things and do things her way, so Kristie’s father came all the way from Custer to help get Theola’s affairs in order.

Incredibly, outside of Theola’s husband’s death 12 years ago, the family has suffered no deaths, so many are dealing by not dealing with Theola’s impending death.

On Saturday Kristie’s father brought Theola over to our house for a visit. Kristie was out buying groceries when they showed up, so I entertained them until she arrived. One of the first things Theola remarked about was how she couldn’t keep any weight on. Then she added, “Well, at least I’ll be lighter in the casket.” It was both terribly sad but yet hilarious too.

Then she complained of her ‘broken’ rib. Apparently she hasn’t accepted the fact that she has late stage lung cancer and emphysema.

“Mom, you don’t have a broken rib. You have the benefits of 70 years of smoking a pack a day,” Kristie’s dad told her. But she still insisted it was her rib.

Before dinner we took Theola for a tour around town, where she spent her childhood. While age may be taking a toll on her vision and hearing, her memory is as clear as ever. I enjoyed talking with her about the businesses that used to exist in our hometown and the stories of the people who frequented them.

Kristie is now in the same position I was with my mom a few years ago and my dad now, just trying to soak up all of the time and experiences she can with her grandmother. Time is always finite. We just aren’t really aware of that until it’s almost too late.

The only real comfort one can take is treasuring the time you have with the person before they die. But when that’s gone, what is there to comfort you? Family. But the death has made it painfully obvious that your family is now one less than it had been. But what is left when the family goes back to their lives? Memories. These will last a life time. But they are finite.

Friends and others who have experienced the same loss help too. I just read a blog entitled “How Surviving Feels” and that was a comfort. This man has lost many. I haven’t, but I will. His experience prepares me. His experience comforts me. He has survived the losses. I will too. That doesn't make it easier though. It just makes it bearable. And that is about the best one can hope for.

A dark day for a dark topic.