I pulled another sympathy card from the post box today. It was from a dear friend in Iowa and her husband who hadn’t been able to attend my dad’s funeral in October. There is no statute of limitations on condolence cards it seems. At my father’s wake this past October, for example, one of the cousins handed me a card and memorial for my late husband who died nearly three years ago. So my friend’s card was not late, merely unexpected and oddly enough, timely. Read Full Article
Death
Winters on the prairie were brutal for the early pioneers. During snowstorms a person could get lost just walking from the house to the barn and back again. In order to protect themselves homesteaders planted trees and shrubs of various types around their homes and out buildings so they would form natural wind breaks as they matured. Read Full Article
We arrived in Iowa in time to talk with my father one last time before the cancer overwhelmed him and he was too weak and taking too much pain medication to be conscious of his surroundings. I hadn’t done the death bed thing in a while but it is surprising how similar slow death is regardless of the affliction.
My first husband will be dead three years this coming January. My husband Rob passed the two year anniversary of his first wife’s death this past August. But his experience with last days and final hours exceeds mine. He was with his mother-in-law a year ago when ALS claimed her, and just two months later we sat a phone vigil for her husband.
As we dressed for Dad’s funeral, Rob asked me,
“Do you think it’s possible to get everyone in the family to promise not to die for at least the next couple of years?” Read Full Article
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