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Show 4 - OUR TIMES - OCTOBER 1992 NEIGHBORS, Cont. from Page 1 “ rmr‘§ nrr:.‘“ "*flm.3= 'r g!‘h "tr ainf 1th " -hvr 22' " «7a'fiz var-'1'.‘E‘ fl»"’ —ttr (3" 132;: 'léh.i&l€!3§n at‘eagszifitflb‘tfia.‘ , h could use them year 'round. Some did. From the types of serrated points, . o‘.‘ _ .- . u Q. pottery, and other unearthed relics, we Saying Good-bye are able to tell that these people were primarily hunter/gatherers. Deer in the valley then were even more plentiful My mother died ofcongestive heart failure and its complications on September 3rd, four months after breaking her foot in afall and being admitted to a Salt Lake hospitalfor reconstructive surgery. than today, a major source of meat, hide, and bone—food, clothing, and implements. They also hunted duck along the creek. They harvested wild rice grass, but also farmed corn and beans, using creek water as well as runoff from the rim. During the warmer months there was plentiful game in the LaSals as well as pinon nuts to harvest. Both Utes and Piutes were living here when the first white settlers arrived; Ute teepee poles have been found in Professor Valley. But instead of peaceful intermingling, there was a clash of cultures that reached its climax with eight whites massacred by the Ute Indians they were pursuing. The Pinhook Massacre, one of the last big Indian battles, was a closing page of the American West. Dirt mounds and brush now cover ancient villages and archaic sites. Some evidence remains on the surface—like Anasazi and Ute petroglyphs or the old Indian trail running up the flank of Castleton Tower—reminders that we are only the latest residents in a valley that has sheltered and fed the people for millennia. —Jil Kulander, (with thanks to Greg Nunn) {Staiair-nits nslass BY enise lamps etched gloss 3D repairs free estimates (801)259-6382 PO. Box 1908 CVSR MOAB, UTAH 84532 I... -— U U I have heard it said that death is like taking off a pair of tight shoes. And I believe that, so I see my mother now—mobile, free, happy, enjoying her reunion with the loved ones she I who took us in and made us welcome in their home. They opened their doors, their hearts, their beds, and their cupboards. Mother was so happy to be there that last month and so thrilled to have her family around her, and the blessing of the woods around her. Peace and serenity were reinforced by that house on Lares Way and the people within. I acknowledge the nursing staffs hasn’t seen in a long time. Moving on. and doctors, who not only did their best It was a rich and powerful experience to witness Mother’s journey this summer, and I am grateful for all those days and what they are teaching me. It will take time to absorb the lessons into my life. us. Before that there was much light- but also gave Mother tender, loving care and us reassurance. Who never tried to send us away, and in fact came to treat Dad as part of their team. And my thanks and love to the hospice staff, who taught us what to expect and how to accept it, who examined her, bathed her and were sweet to her, who laughed and cried with us, who kept answering our questions honestly and with great hearted conversation interspersed with sensitivity. They helped us realize our private and shared concerns and when it was time to let her go. They helped us value the process and respect Though this may sound like a solemn time, it was anything but, except for the last week or so when Mother was no longer able to talk with fears, and despite her continual discomfort, I am sure she enjoyed herself very much. It is easy to see why—there was love being poured on her around the clock. It was a reciprocal arrangement. Many shared that period: I acknowledge here and pay tribute to my father’s long, sweet vigil. His loyalty, love, gallantry, and tenacity never faltered, even when his body and mind were taxed beyond endurance. Now he struggles to find his way. It is not easy to think of living alone after 87 years, 65 of them married. He needs the presence and patience of all who love and value him, as he begins to heal and adjust to Mother’s absence. I know she will be there trying to help, trying to lighten him up a bit. I acknowledge our family and friends. Each one has been so appreciated and important. Some regretted not having more time to spend, but needn’t. The important thing is that their help, visits, hugs and kisses, calls, notes, meals, prayers, kind words, good wishes, suggestions, and love were perfect in their time—and will continue to be. I acknowledge my brother Krege and his wife Judy, and their family, 1t. I have yet to integrate the reality of this passage. My reading about death and grieving helped me prepare, but my heart doesn't believe it is true that she is gone. And my heart is probably right. My mother remains in what she taught me through living her life: - To enjoy the days - To appreciate the simple pleasures - Not to worry - To see the humor in how things are - To trust life - Not to be afraid to reach out - To keep things in perspective—and in proportion - To keep learning - To make light of sorrows and disappointments and discomfort - To offer love To take life in stride - To have faith in God and in goodness. She leaves a great gap in all our lives. How will we replace her sweetness, her wise counsel, her unfailing support, her little jokes, her willingness to listen? Perhaps by strengthening these qualities in ourselves as we offer them to each other. Death ends something, for now, and continues other things. And it all has to do with love. Bless Mother’s heart. Bless all our hearts. —Cris Coffey r fit... ‘59:. ‘ §‘g§g§an§n ”“P"?9§£4§P"§2‘V » y. a, e’hfsi '-.P Eatt’tiatsies‘ast’ :‘—:..5 attests-2 .O’-. |
