Kay Durand Lumley's Eulogy

We, Kay's family, thank you all for coming to share this day with us. We know that each of you could share how Kay has touched your life.

Katy, as we called her, was our baby sister...the youngest in our family of nine. She could have been very spoiled. We would have liked to have babied her...but early on from the time she could put words together, she would tell us..."Please, I want to do this myself." There was nothing Kay wouldn't try once--or maybe twice if necessary. She was delightfully tomboyish. She didn't tell us until years later how much she detested the pink outfits and ruffles Mother loved to dress her in. Some of her closest friends were boys--and her two lambs--Rastus and Midnight. Rastus and Midnight did not remain lambs but turned into obstinate buck sheep and caused the rest of us some anxious moments...including the evening one of our beaus excused himself from the supper table to walk the icy, dark path to the outdoor facilities. Mother became alarmed when he did not return in half an hour. Looking out of the kitchen door she saw that Rastus and Midnight had stationed themselves outside the outhouse door and would not let him return to the house. Kay was the only one who could remove them. Kay and Rastus and Midnight spent so much time together that we all felt that they were beginning to resemble each other.

Most of us remember our First Communions for the bouquets of wild flowers, the special candles, the music and our white dress and veil. Kay remembers all of that but she especially remembers the scuffle she got into with one of the Tetrault boys and how exasperated Mother was with her when she smudged her dress.

Kay held many jobs while growing up. She worked as a candy-striper at Spooner Hospital. She helped Dad and Mother a lot on the farm as the rest of us began to leave home to begin lives of our own.

We older ones called Kay our "Amazon." There seemed to be nothing she wouldn't try and then excel at. This became a pattern that seemed to prevail throughout her life. She was an aunt before she was born. When she met and married her dear Ralph, she reminded us that not only had she brought the oldest brother-in-law into the family but because of Ralph's son Cecil - she was now a grandmother before any of us!

In her busy, busy life, the light of her life was her and Ralph's son, Rob. One doesn't have to visit with Rob very long to realize he would be the light of anyone's life. Kay loved her little family deeply. She once said of Ralph; "He's not only my husband and best friend. He's my soul mate."

No one is sure just how or when it happened but this little sister we thought of as our baby sister was becoming the pinnacle or hub of our whole family. After we no longer had Dad and Mother, it was Kay who always remembered the birthdays, anniversaries and the names of the births of our now three-generation family. If we weren't sure of any of this we knew we could just ask Kay. With us local ones, in spite of her busy schedule I could count on the phone ringing on Thursday night and it would be Kay..."And how are you tonight?" She chose Thursday to make these calls because it was Bette's night off. Nieces and nephews sought Kay out. Aunt Kay could always be counted on to give an honest, objective opinion.

Kay's dedication to family was evident when she and Ralph bought the family farm--our childhood home. It would have been simpler and less costly to tear the farmhouse down and start all over. But Kay had another plan in her heart. She wanted this to be a place everyone could come home to and feel like they were coming home. When she and Ralph completed the project, the original oak kitchen floors were still in place. Mother's corner dish cupboard was where it always was. The upstairs bedroom windows opened to the same westerly breezes. The wallpaper and embroidered dresser scarves gave all who stayed there the comforting feeling that time had stood still.

Kay loved having people stop by. We used to think that maybe her arm was permanently attached to the coffee pot. Whenever the front door opened the coffee was ready and waiting.

A day was never long enough for Kay. She loved her job with St. Mary's Duluth Clinic branch in Spooner. She often went in early to finish up work on her desk or to set up coffee and rolls for meetings. Her EMT involvement meant a lot to her. She not only enjoyed it and the group she worked with but she said one time that she was doing this to help her community because her community had given so much to her. This work often involved being called out in the middle of the night. She had also started going back to classes at UWBC. Sometimes we wondered how Kay could take on one more thing. But she loved everything she did. She used to say one lifetime wasn't long enough to accomplish all of the things she wanted to do.

When we learned the devastating news of Kay's illness in early September, we, her family, vowed we would walk the walk with her. We should have known that with Kay we would be running to keep up with her.

She knew from the very beginning how small the odds were that she could beat this type of cancer. Her comment? "If I have even one percent chance I'm going to go for it." She was determined to try every experimental treatment available. Her courageous spirit was strengthening to all of us.

As her need for our care increased we were humbled by her non-complaining attitude. Not once did she complain or feel sorry for herself. That does not mean there weren't times of tears. One day she said, "I'm not afraid to die...I'm just not ready to tell everyone good-bye yet."

She insisted Rob not interrupt his studies at UW Madison. She also insisted Ralph have his knee surgery in Duluth. And while pursuing every avenue for a cure, she also did as she was advised to do and began to quietly put her affairs in order--including many of the choices you see today. "I'm going to do this," she said, "And if I don't need it ...well, it's all done." Many times we walked these paths with a lump in our throats, but we were marching to Kay's drumbeat...and that meant no faltering steps. She bought Christmas presents for all of us when she was in Madison for treatments. She managed to send out all of her Christmas cards and letters before we got our own out.

Where did Kay get her strength? Two weeks ago she was scheduled for a procedure in Duluth. That morning we awoke to icy roads and all area schools closed. We told her how badly we felt that she was up there by herself ...alone. Her quiet reply was, "Thank you, but I'm never alone."

She so keenly felt all of your prayers throughout her walk. At times she would say, "I could just feel how everyone's prayers carried us through that one."

Her hope didn't flicker until after the procedure in Duluth two weeks ago. It didn't go well. It didn't help. She ended up in Intensive Care for two days and was told there could be no further treatments...not even Madison

We expected that this would be a devastating blow to Kay. But she was a realist. She knew there were no more doors open for her. This is when we observed an amazing thing.

Kay's acceptance came without anger or remorse. She was not angry at God. I think at that time she began preparing us for what she knew was ahead.

We feel at peace that we could give her the only thing we could...her wish to remain at home under our care. She was where she wanted to be...with her Ralph and Rob and Molly and Aunt Betts by their Christmas tree. She was still reminding us what to do until the last hours we had her. We did not have to use a hospital bed. We did not have to use strong narcotics. We share this with you as we want you to know how beautifully your prayers were answered. It was only the last day she did not spend the day sitting in her chair in the living room. T hat day when we went to move her to her chair she said she was tired...just wanted to rest a little longer.

The last afternoon--although we didn't know it was the last afternoon--Bette was sitting by her. Ralph and Rob and Molly had been in and out talking to her. Bette thought Kay was asleep and began telling her what a wonderful sister she'd been ...and mother ...and wife...and aunt. Still appearing to be asleep, Kay interrupted her. "Now that's enough of that."

As we would tuck her in at night (after her massage) she wanted us to read the prayer to St. Peregrine, the Patron Saint of cancer. We also read from a special collection of prayers on hope. If it was Bette's shift, she always ended with "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep." That last evening as Bette finished this prayer, Kay's sleep appeared deeper and a few minutes later she left us.

New Years Eve morning had brought the last sacraments, and that evening she quietly completed her journey.

Go gently into the night, dear Kay. But your spirit--your beautiful, indomitable spirit--will always remain a part of us.