This week, as I held my dear friend’s hand, I tried my darndest to focus on gratitude.

She is 93 and dying.

Frankly, she is looking forward to it.

But God hasn’t yet allowed her to cross the threshold from this world to the next and that is testing her patience. She is grateful she is dying, but she would also like to get on with it.

I will miss our many conversations over the years we have known each other when one of us says something definitive, to which the other responds amen. There is comfort in knowing your beliefs so parallel those of someone you admire and respect.

And yet, when I try to feel gratitude for that, I can’t even cough up a small fur ball of the stuff.

Just a block down the street from this office, great energy has been mustered in the last year to try to bring the Webster Theater back to the public.

As Bob Oliver’s story in today’s DFJ says, “Despite the good work of Webster City’s HERO board — Help Entertain and Restore Organization — Peterson Construction of Webster City, a grant from the Hotel/Motel Tax Board, proceeds from an insurance policy, and generous donations from Webster City and beyond, it has been confirmed the beloved local movie theater can’t reopen in time for this year’s Christmas in the City celebration.

“Webster Citians will never forget that horrifying day nearly a year ago when fire gutted the building at 608 Second Street. Since 608 shares a common wall with the Webster Theater, there was concern fire could spread to the theater itself. Due to heroic efforts of the Webster City Fire Department, and timely help from other neighboring fire companies, the fire was stopped just as it jumped into the theater’s attic in the far southeastern corner of the building.

“So, it wasn’t fire that destroyed the theater’s auditorium.

“It was smoke from the fire and the water used to put the fire out.”

Oliver’s stories are a powerful tapestry, woven from his true love and concern for this, his long-ago adopted community.

He knows my friend who is dying. In fact, on Thursday, he urged me to get up from this desk and go to the nursing home to see her again.

So I did.

That is when I held her hand and tried to hear gratitude. I heard, instead, the loud television next door and someone streaming early Christmas music.

Later, I returned to the office. I parked in front of The Elks. It never ceases to amaze me that a handful of visionaries — with a good measure of good will and a whole lot of moolah — have not only saved that building, but resuscitated it. By March it should be up and open, which may be around the same time as the lights go back on at the Webster Theater.

My friend will be gone by then.

Because she is dying, my sleep is broken. The other morning I got up and shopped for Angel Tree gifts. I bought a pink tricycle for a little girl and blue clothes for a newborn boy. It felt good to shop for a new life.

I told my friend about those today, but she no longer cares.

God called her, she said. Where is he?

I don’t know, I confessed.

Well, I wish he would hurry up, she whispered.

I do to, I said.

Jane Curtis is interim editor of the Daily Freeman-Journal. She is a 2024 Iowa Newspaper Association Master Columnist.