Aug 13 2010
On Death and Dying in a Small Town: One More Reason to Retire in One
On Death and Dying in a Small Town: One More Reason to Retire in One
On Death and Dying in a Small Town
One more reason to retire in one
By Carol Forsloff
Old, lonely, frustrated, and worried who’ll remember you when life’s over? Move to a small town. Everyone will attend your funeral, or the wake preceding it; and if they can’t, will make sure that someone from their home or office does. Among the many reasons to retire in Natchitoches, what happens when you die isn’t mentioned; and maybe it ought to be. Because death and dying in a small town is so much different than how the process plays out in a major city. Small towns value life, both coming and going, and the “money where the mouth goes” scenario is played out regularly as hordes of people in parked cars and on foot line up to say a final goodbye to this one or that one, known for a little, or known for a lot, but cared about still.
In one small town called Natchitoches, Louisiana I saw the town turn out for the long goodbye to a town sister, with a life celebrated and finalized at the local Catholic Church. Many people knew about the funeral, even those who didn’t know the deceased and referred to her simply as “Eulah’s sister.” The fact is, however, that she was a topic among the seniors for several days; and those who never knew her found something to ponder from the concerns expressed by town residents in every part of the Parish.
A beloved citizen in that same small town fell ill and remained in the hospital for several weeks. He had been sick off and on for years. But this time it was much more serious, because the good man died in the hospital. Hundreds of people poured through those hospital doors, more than the hospital could manage at times, so they were staggered in small groups over the days. When death came, the town grieved again, then turned out in full force for a friend, just as it had in the few short weeks before..
So how is dying different in a small town like Natchitoches? In a big city, where resident turnover is constant, people are coming and going constantly, and the sheer volume of folks makes deep relationships difficult, death is met with scarcely a whisper in the din of a busy world. One is apt to hear, “I hear that Muriel died. I wish I had been able to get to her funeral, but you know it was just a busy time for me; and I couldn’t make it.” But in small towns there’s a difference. Every soul is significant, and the loss of a single one is noticed, remembered, and acknowledged because of the empty, visible space that’s left.