Today's sky is cloudy with a few geese migrating to warmer regions down south. The air is crisp with fresh fog emitting from our lips with every breath. Except for the evergreens, all of the trees in the northwoods are now bare with only the hardiest of leaves and apples still rejecting gravity. The grass, still green, is dusted with the first snowfall of the season from yesterday. The axe that I used last week to chop wood is now being used to cut and temporarily remove the grass from a plot of ground. As we place the strips of grass aside and begin digging deeper down with shovels, a child looks up at his parents and curiously inquires "What are we making?"

Ten of us gathered today to dig a grave for Pam, a loved member in our close-knit community. Her funeral will be at home, held outdoors in the field at her wedding site. Her burial will be down the road, near the community home-schoolhouse. As we dig, snowflakes begin to fall, seemingly attracted to our warm conversations. To keep us warm between shifts a small campfire is made from birch bark strips and branches from the ground nearby and releases a smokey scent that brings back my childhood memories of boiling down tree sap into maple syrup. A vehicle approaches, and the driver emerges with a spread of food to feed us. We all talk about how incredible the potluck benefit at the local saloon was on Saturday night; all of the food and silent auction items were donated, and about 300 rural northlanders came together and raised over $10,000 for this one incredible woman. One person's overalls are still bloody from butchering a ten-point buck last night in preparation for the upcoming funeral feast. Another vehicle arrives with the son and son-in-law, they have just finished building a divine coffin using wood that I had helped to harvest. They came over to see if they would be needed for this task, but their community has already completed it, and instead they are offered a beer and warm spirits rather than a shovel.

The most uplifting aspect in my process of celebrating and remembering her life and her impact on us is seeing how interconnected and resourceful our community is. The most painful aspect for all of us is doing these preparations while not knowing exactly when the funeral will be as she is still alive. We still talk about a miracle happening, that she will beat this cancer yet again, but her cancer came back quick and hard. Her physical form is now in a state of jaundice, but her spirit is as beautiful and compassionate as ever as she speaks now of making her final journey within the next few days. Everyday there has been at least a few of us over at her homestead, helping inside to keep her comfortable and nourished with love, and outside to be ready for the winter, and most importantly helping each other to prepare all of us for her journey north.

Community.