Elderly Alberta woman freezes to death, alone, in rural shack

EDMONTON — Catharina Zinkewich died a gruesome death in a decrepit one-room shack on a farm north of Edmonton. She died last month the way she had lived out the twilight years of her life — alone, forgotten by all but a few.

A neighbour found the 89-year-old Polish immigrant frozen to the floor of the shanty that she heated with a wood stove. It appeared she had fallen and couldn't get up. The fire went out and she froze.

A poignant newspaper column in the Smoky Lake Signal marked her passing. It was headlined: When a Woman Falls in Our Community, Do We Hear Her? and raised painful questions about Zinkewich's life and death. How could such a thing happen in this era, in this province, in this country?

"Those of us who knew her are saddened," wrote Peter Apedaile, a 70-year-old retired university professor and farmer who now pens essays on ethics. "(We're) saddened by the dependency she believed was freedom; saddened by the support given over the years that will always feel inadequate at the end; saddened that our social safety nets didn't fit; relieved that her hard life is past."

Neighbours had been trying to convince her to move to a seniors' lodge in Smoky Lake, about 116 kilometres northeast of Edmonton, where she would have the care and supervision she required, but she rebuffed them all. She preferred to live a harsh life alone in a shack without plumbing, spending her last years just a few kilometres from the homestead where her parents had settled.

"Everybody tried to get Cathy to the lodge, but she wouldn't go," said the neighbour who found her. "She made her choice, but it wasn't a good choice."

Zinkewich, who raised two boys, was married twice. Her second husband committed suicide and one of her boys died several years ago. While she was fiercely independent, she was forced to call upon strangers when she ran into difficulty.

Her nearest neighbour, a 79-year-old widow who lives about five kilometres away, regularly drove Zinkewich to church, took her shopping, to dentist and doctor appointments and to her bank. At the request of a public health nurse, she even took Zinkewich to the seniors lodge for occasional baths.

"We thought if we introduced her to the lodge she would see how nice it was," said the neighbour, who didn't want her name published. "I thought she would really like it, but nothing worked."

Apedaile, a former county councillor, said he first met Zinkewich when she called him about eight years ago to tell him she was out of firewood. When he and his wife went over to chop and stack wood for her, they were shocked at the Third-World conditions in which she lived. He described her house as "tiny, shamelessly rundown, cold and unsanitary."

Neighbours say she was a tiny woman but she had a fiery spark.

"She had a charm about her as well as this streak of independence which meant she didn't call upon anyone until she was up against the wall," Apedaile said. "We played a minor role compared to other people. The public works foreman would drive that way home to check on her and she would call him if she needed snow moved."

The woman who found Zinkewich had known her for more than 60 years. She said Zinkewich came to Canada at age 10 in 1930 and had lived most of her life in the area.

Despite all she did to help her neighbour, she still feels awful.

"You see how it ended. It wasn't good enough. She needed someone to look after her on a daily basis and no one could do it."

She said when she hadn't heard from Zinkewich for several days after the Christmas holidays, she became alarmed. "All of a sudden I had this horrible feeling. I called her and there was no answer."

She called another neighbour, who said she hadn't heard from Zinkewich, either.

"I don't know where I got the courage to go, but I went over."

She said she found Zinkewich frozen on the floor in the kitchen with her face turned toward the door.

"I don't know what happened," she said sadly. "Maybe she fell and couldn't get up. Maybe she was calling my name. It was horrible, but I am glad I went. Nobody would have gone there for a long time."

Apedaile is worried there are other Zinkewiches out there, living hermit lives in remote shacks.

The question he raises is what, if anything, should Albertans do about it?

"Catherine's tragic and gruesome death prompts us to look at the dignity and safety of people abandoned to social isolation, loneliness and infirmity," he said. "Is anybody responsible or is this just something that happens in a society and a community like ours?"

dhentonthejournal.canwest.com