Dr. Erich Longie
Informing Leona our son was dead was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Words can’t adequately describe how she reacted when I told her Joel was killed in a car accident that morning. Unable to help her, I stood helplessly by as she broke down. Once she regained some semblance of her composure, she called her relatives and several came right over to cry with her and to comfort her.
When Leona and I arrived back at the funeral home, more relatives had joined those who were waiting there when I left for Dunseith. Informing the funeral director Leona was Joel’s mother; she said we could view the Joel’s body. The other family members and relatives also asked to view his body. At first, the funeral director said “no” (there were too many). Then seeing the look on their faces she immediately relented and allowed them in. All of us -- my family, Leona and her sons, my cousins, and in-laws -- stood around Joel and took turns hugging him one last time. Looking back, I think this when I first had an inkling that my son was not only special to me, but to many, many people.
From the day my son died, July 1, 2001, to the day of the wake, July 5, 2001, my house was never empty; people were constantly coming and going. Some came to pay respect; others brought us food, cards, money, star quilts, and other gifts. Joel had attended school in Devils Lake, a town located north of the reservation. My attitude toward some many people who lived in Devils Lake was never favorable and vice versa. Therefore, I was taken completely by surprise by the number of people from Devils Lake who showed up at my door not only with food, money, and gifts, but also by the amount of tears they shed for my son.
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