South Dakota Christmas '25: A Snapshot

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I spent Christmas 2025 at my father-in-law William ("Bill") Oakley's home in Sturgis, South Dakota. Bill was 101 years old, soon to turn 102. During my two-week visit, I watched him cycle through emotions—anger, confusion, feeling overwhelmed, and quiet acceptance of this stage of his life.

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We had just told Bill he could no longer drive due to safety concerns for himself and others. Initially, he said little. One quiet afternoon, while my wife (his daughter) was out on an errand, we sat together in his living room. After some silence, he confided that losing the ability to drive really hurt his ego. I acknowledged how difficult that must be.

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Later in our conversation, he reflected on his social nature, explaining that he values his privacy and time alone, and that while he gets along with some people, he doesn't connect with everyone. He remarked that I seemed to get along well with everybody, which he considered an admirable quality.

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During that same afternoon, Bill shared his frustration with technology, saying he felt overwhelmed and outmatched by it. He expressed regret about not learning to use Siri's voice activation sooner, feeling it might have given him more control over his environment. I also noticed him searching for words during our talks, though he could clearly describe the function of what he meant. For instance, when he couldn't recall "bedspread," he called it "the top cover on the bed."

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About a month earlier, I had visited my daughter, her husband, and my five-year-old grandson. After these visits, I realized something: whether staying with Bill or with my grandson, I always kept a watchful eye on both of them to prevent falls and help them navigate their worlds. Despite being at opposite ends of life, both required the same careful attention. I reminded myself to be reverent and patient with each of them—both my grandson and my father-in-law possessed profound personalities that deserved to be recognized and honored with my full presence.