A Time of Sorrow

Grandpa and Grandma South were planning to travel after he retired. They wanted to spend a couple of months in Prague and Vienna, gathering genealogy and connecting with old friends there. Grandma was a native of Czechoslovakia and had also lived in Vienna before immigrating, with her sister, to America. Some records were made more easily available to the native-born. Bill had served as a missionary to Czechoslovakia. They had also been sent, previously, as a married couple, to check on members who could no longer worship openly, after the mission closed. This would be their first trip back since their last official church assignment in the area.

Bill had recovered from a bad case of flu but had a lingering cough. He and Jane were putting final arrangements together for their trip. One of Bill's friends at the county health department took a routine X-ray when Bill sought him out, asking for a cough suppressant to take with him on the trip to soothe that nagging cough. The X-ray revealed a malignant mass in one lung, a terrible surprise to both, the kind of mass one would more likely see in the lungs of a heavy smoker. Grandpa had never smoked. He had, however, worked in his father's asbestos mine, as a teenager. The effects of asbestos had become known in recent years. Night letters were sent to cancel arrangements with friends expecting to meet the South's at airports and train stations. Surgery was scheduled immediately.

The doctors seemed convinced that the cancer was fully contained in the lung they removed. Frank's dad suffered terribly. One stray lymph node had moved quickly to the brain following surgery. Bill had refused extraordinary life support measures. We drove to Salt Lake every weekend, Frank and I and the kids, to help in whatever way we could, once he was released from the hospital. If Frank was traveling, the kids and I would head out when the last bell had rung for the day while they were finishing their school year, arriving in the City in the wee hours of the next morning. Frank would meet us there. Within two months, Grandpa South died.

Jane was devastated. She had relished the time they'd had together since Bill had retired. Then, so quickly, he was gone. The kids and I stayed with her for a week or two, putting a few things in order, hoping to help her get her bearings a bit. She had come to rely on Bill for most things. We rehearsed simple things. I showed her how to change the bag in the vacuum. I balanced her checkbook for her, and reminded her how to write a check. The family encouraged her to reschedule and take the trip she and "Tato" had planned. Jane and her sister, Frances made the trip together. This became a healing experience for Grandma South.

Our kids felt the loss of their grandpa. He had filled a real need in their lives, particularly during times when their dad was traveling.

William T. South, President or Bishop, Elder, Bill, "Tato", or Grandpa. No matter what name he answered to, he would be remembered.