I headed to North Dakota last week for my mom's memorial service. She passed away in January in Arizona, but she had asked to be laid to rest in North Dakota, where she was born and raised. Although I spent a few years there as a child, I hadn't so much as visited since I was small, 25+ years prior.
A lot has changed in North Dakota in the past few years. If you've read the news, you may have seen that there's an oil boom happening in the great plains. This is evident on the plane as I fly in, the rough neck workers flooding back into the town from breaks in their home towns. As we sit at a restaurant eating dinner, I watch the traffic drive by. For every car that passes their are 99 trucks, 95 of which look new, but not shiny, dusty from driving on the gravel and dirt roads that litter the countryside.
Heading to Tioga from the airport in Minot, oil fields dot the empty landscape. Man camps huddle against the wind, ugly groups of trailers or small buildings where men pay way too much money to live in these small spaces. Trees break up the flat plains, but are set far apart at intervals along the road, and coming from the forested state of Indiana, the emptiness of the terrain is a shock.
We drive to the church that my parents attended together, abandoned now but still standing, with a small graveyard behind it. We arrive in the evening, with the sun starting to set and the sky a pink glow. The sign for the graveyard looks eerie and beautiful all at once, a juxtaposition I can't help wishing I had a real camera to photograph. We visit the graves of my grandfather and great grandparents, the graveyard is old but carefully tended, with the grass mown and silk flowers on the graves.
We continue on to the farmhouse my mother grew up in. It sits on the land my uncle farms, but no one lives in it now. We walked through it, and like anything from childhood it seems both smaller and larger then remembered, a huge part of your life but changed from years away.
We stay in the much more modern home that my uncle and aunt now live in. The huge kitchen is a gathering place for the family. We were fed better than I had been fed in years. Steak from the cows my uncle raises, cookie salad, rommegrout, cake (let's just call it CAKE, but if you want the true name, ask me privately), pickled beets, and fresh, homemade rolls were only a few of the things I ate. My mom always showed love through food, and now I know why. I felt truly cared for and welcome the entire visit.
With all the rich foods we indulged in, I needed to run more than ever. The prairie was calling to me. The open, blue skies, the way you could see for miles, the fresh air and the breeze that blew the entire visit. I knew I needed that run, and that chance to feel closer to my mom than I had in months. The first run blew me away, literally. I ran for a few miles when a massive storm blew in. 5 minutes before, nothing. 5 minutes later, dark skies and wind. 5 minutes more, and the rain was pelting me. The drops felt like needles on my skin, driving into the left side of my body while the wind forced me to run sideways. Since the fields were wide open, there was no shelter, and I ran towards the farm as quickly as I could. Luckily, my dad and brother weren't far off, and they picked me up and took me home. As I walked in the house I noticed only the one side of my body was wet. The wind had driven the rain so hard that only the side facing the storm had been dampened!
Saturday, we went into town for my mom's memorial service. I wasn't sure what to expect since my mom hadn't lived in North Dakota for so long. We headed to the church my parents had married in. It still looked the same, even the colors inside were the same. We met the pastor who knew my mom when she was young. By the start of the service the little church had filled up with family and friends. I know the service was nice, but honestly I don't remember it. It all seemed so surreal. After the service we had a lunch and took family pictures. It was the first time I had met one of my cousins, and we got a cousins photo with my grandma.
The next day we spread some of mom's ashes behind the barn where she liked to play, and took the rest to the cemetery. I don't like to cry in front of people, and I held it together. After everyone left except for me, my sister and brother, and my dad, my sister and I sang a song for my mom. About 2/3 of the way in, I started crying, and let it all out. I try so hard not to be vulnerable, but in that moment I had to bare my soul to my family.
We went back to the farm house, and spent the next day in Williston finishing the details for my mom's gravestone. On Monday night we took one last opportunity to visit her grave, and we had an impromptu dance party. If you know my mom, you would know she would have LOVED that, and probably would have led some of the dancing. She loved parties, friends, and music, any good times.
I left my mom in North Dakota, but I gained family I never knew. I know the hole in my heart will never fully heal, but now I have some more people that I love that have made my heart a bigger place. I wish I had time to tell you all about them, but let me just name them all here. Thank you to my family, who I love so much, Uncle Kim, Aunt Jolene, Grandma Marlis, Aunt Kerry, Rusty, Peggy, Rusalyn, Kaden, Joelle, Jason, Maddie, Hailey, Aunt Jen, Uncle Brian, and Brianna. Hope to see you all again very soon.
