Sucker Punch

I have recognized that I am going through grief from Bill's and Dad's deaths. Both deaths were expected on many levels. In many ways both deaths made my life easier. That, I also recognize, doesn't exempt me from grief. I say that I am experiencing a subtle undercurrent of sadness. I wasn't very interested in doing the outdoor activities with the family during my first few days in Idaho. I thought maybe when my other sister arrived, I would have the desire to go riding and hiking with her. She's fun. She's always been great company for me. I thought she'd pull me out of my shell. On the morning, the caravan was supposed to head up to Idaho, my little sister posted on Facebook that she and her daughter just had the first of 8 mother/daughter days together. I thought nothing of it. I figured she'd promised her daughter 8 days during the year during which they would do special things together. Nice mother/daughter bonding gift, I thought. Another nice example of my naivete. This was her way of letting us all know neither she nor her daughter were coming to Idaho. Kyle spelled it out for me later that day. And the sudden, shock of that 'news' hurt me in a way I didn't know I could be hurt. That pain drove deep into me. I thought I wouldn't be able to absorb it. I hadn't known I could be hurt so badly---or that anyone so close to me would, or could, do something that would cause me so much pain. This was my younger sister letting Beth---and me---know she was still angry, that she couldn't do the trip to Idaho again, that she was no farther along in recovering from her 'issues' than she was two years ago. This was a situation where she was just not going to show up and her husband and sons would have to bring her lame excuses to us. "Don't insult my intelligence with your lies," I wanted to say. "It's bad enough to know what has just happened. It needs no explanation. It's as clear as day. Please don't further hurt me by lying to me. Remember, I'm smart." I thought my little sister was better. In fact, we had gone over to her house on Sunday and had had a nice time. My sister was out running around. She had had her cold for over three days and she was 'almost over it'. Her husband came in Beth's and made the lame excuse that Sue wasn't well and didn't feel she could do the trip. I didn't confront him on the lie. I felt sorry he was in the position to deliver it; I gave him the benefit of the doubt of not really believing it himself. I know this wasn't directed at me. I know this is Sue's stuff, and I am beginning to believe she'll never get over it. She has let her idea that she was not loved, not wanted, ignored and unappreciated, mold the adult she has become. She's not going to get over that. It doesn't matter how many therapists she sees, how many books she publishes, how many motivational speaking engagement she gets, or how many stand-up routines she does. She's never going to get over it. And maybe the last three years of my life and the recent deaths have left me more fragile than I knew. Until my little sister decided not to show up for the holidays and left her husband and boys to deliver the lie. Her youngest even asked us to pray for his mother's health in church today. Sad. Sad. Sad. I don't know how I will react to my sister the next time she tries to contact me. For the time being, I won't answer her phone calls. I can't play the game where she tells me she wasn't feeling well and I graciously accept the story.

Arriving for Christmas

The trip to Beth's could have been a tame version of Planes, Trains and Automobiles. We spent three days in transit. The final leg is always done with a stop at Cabela's in Post Falls. The rest usually involves a stop at the grocery store but this time we needed to go to get some baby snow boots and a walker in Sandpoint. The only 'must' is to arrive at Beth's before dusk. And dusk comes by 4:00 p.m. They live in a wildlife corridor, and the animals are always looking for food from dusk until morning. It's easy to hit them. I found that honking will help get them off the road but they are unpredictable in their approaches to crossing the road. We got there at 3:15. There were five people there already. We spent Christmas with them. It was good to be there on Christmas again. We had only been there once before on Christmas morning. Our two other siblings and their families were supposed to start caravaning up to Idaho on the morning of the 27th.

Getting to Idaho

This year I had bought tickets to Idaho for the holidays with my family. We go on even years now. Every year was too much for Beth's family and, after the last trip and the sudden and unexpected fireball from our other sister, it didn't feel like all the work was worth it. I had agreed. Last year we stayed at home; it was tough for me. We entertained Kyle's recently widowed grandfather and autistic uncle. It was an okay time but it didn't satisfy me. There's nothing like being with my siblings and their families for Christmas and New Year's. For me the trips to Idaho have been the best ways to celebrate the holidays since I was a kid. Our trip was slightly complicated because Kyle had promised Sue's family he could get them a large four-wheel drive SUV from his friend who is a manager at a local car rental agency. 'So I made airline reservations to fly out of the airport nearest Sue's. When we went to get the car, the fellow had forgotten and we got a two-wheel drive. Sue didn't need that. We knew this would be a possibility. There are very few four-wheel drive vehicles in our area, and they were all gone. On our drive up we got a text from Sue saying she was ill. We decided it wouldn't be wise to stay with her family. Laura, Kyle and the baby had all been sick with colds thaat week and, with supressed immune systems, no one needed exposure to fresh viruses. We stayed at Beth's. Kyle said he had a funny feeling, like maybe Sue's family would cancel out of the trip altogether. We drove the rental we had and left it at the car rental return at the airport. This was Day 2 and we were flying to Idaho. We got to our destination at almost 11:00 p.m. We picked up a car for the drive to Beth's. It wouls take us almost three hours and there would be snow. It was snowing heavily as our plane had touched down and we wanted the safest car available for traveling in snowstorms with a baby. I ended up getting a four-wheel drive Explorer. It's a beautiful, red one with all the bells and whistles. I had made reservations at a local motel for the night. The place I had liked so much the last time I had stayed overnight was nowhere to be found on the internet. I have since discovered that motels in that area change hands frequently. As we sped by the one I had liked, I saw that it was now a Comfort Inn. Wish I had known.

Allowing Help

With Bill's estate still unsettled, my driveway full of his stuff, and now Dad's death, I was starting to feel overwhelmed. There was so much minutiae on so many levels. And then there was all that stuff! Dad's stuff, Bill's stuff. It was everywhere. I didn't know what to do with it. In expressing condolences, one friend had suggested our book and Bible study come over and help pack things for me. My first inclination was to politely decline. Then I thought how challenging cleaning out and ridding myself of things is. I waited several days and then took her up on her offer. Our book group was meeting two days later. We discussed it. I told them I would have coffee and donuts for them. I said nine a.m. to noon. I needed a plan. Keep it simple; don't overdo it: empty Dad's dresser and closet, and clean the driveway of Bill's clothes and household goods. By the time Saturday rolled around I had lists for everyone as well as boxes for prescriptions, medical supplies, glasses and wristwatches. I also gave everyone a list of lost items I hoped we could find. I was prepared. They showed up. Three people came from church, Laura and Carmi were here, and six ladies came from the book group. By noon, the job was done. I felt an enormous load had been lifted off of me. I will be forever grateful to these people for their help. The job would have been more than I could have handled if I had attempted it any time within the next four months. I am tremendously relieved. Carmi agreed to stay at the house and wait for the truck from the donation center to come by, load and haul off everything while I drove Laura and KJ back to their apartment. The truck didn't arrive until almost 2:30. We were just about their last stop as they finished the circuit of pick-ups that would lead them back to the thrift store. The driver was tired and in a bad mood. He didn't want to take anything. I had been told that whatever they picked up would be at the driver's discretion. Carmi pleaded with the driver's assistant. These were really good items, she said, and the rain was coming soon and would destroy them all if they were left outside. Something she said touched the assistant's heart, and they loaded almost all. What little was left, I loaded in my car. I will stop by the store this week to drop them off and pick up the receipts for my taxes. I had typed up a note asking for certain receipts. I know the law. I know what I need when I file my taxes. The driver gave something to Carmi and said it was all I needed. He lied, of course. But the day had been a success and I was content.

With Beth Here

For the next three days Beth and I powered through a long list of tasks. We called friends and family, we read through Dad's trust notebook, we opened his safety deposit box and went through many items in his room. On the phone, we learned there were three, not two, insurance policies with one company. There was a small policy with another. We unearthed evidence of an annuity which explained why Dad was getting a monthly deposit from that company. The annuity was guaranteed for life, no matter how long he lived. Chances are it was exhausted long ago. We realized Dad hadn't known his mother's middle name. Who knows? Maybe she didn't have one. We found copies of his birth certificate in his safe deposit box and then we learned we'd need them for certain paperwork----more evidence of incredible organization. Beth was enormously helpful. By the time she left on Tuesday evening, our list had been whittled down. Laura came over to help and had colored Beth's hair with very positive results. I got Beth to the airport in plenty of time. For her, having Dad so far away made this easier to accept. She was prepared for his death. There were no tears. There was no surprise. The missing won't be as vivid as she wasn't used to having him around.

Incredibly Well-Organized

The love of my father's life died suddenly and unexpectedly in early 1973. My father grieved heavily and found that having to make 'arrangements' during this time was extraordinarily painful. To protect his family from the same fate, Dad went out the next month and made and paid for all of the arrangements for his body. He was, at that time, fifty-two years old. Did he have any idea those plans would not have to be put in place for almost another forty years? Beth flew down on Sunday, arrived at noon, and we went to the funeral home. Dad had even prepaid for six death certificates. For over thirty-nine years, the funeral home had been earning interest on the money he gave them. However, since the cost of death certificates had gone up $6 a piece over that time, they had to charge me the difference in price: $55.65. Another person would have squawked, refused to pay the difference, and would have reminded them how much they had probably made on the original investment for thirty-nine years. Beth and I decided not to. It wasn't enough money for us to get upset. I was surprised, though, that death certificates in our county now cost $14 each. They would call me when the cremains and the death certificates were in. It might take ten days or so.

Later That Morning

Sue had only slept one hour Friday night. In anticipation of the drive here, she had downed three cups of coffee. Once in bed, she was unable to sleep and spent most of the night reading. She went to take a nap when we got home from the hospital so she'd be awake enough to drive back to finish off her anniversary weekend with her husband. A friend came over and sat with me for an hour or so. Carmi came by. She was crying, her face was swollen. She was feeling guilty because Dad had asked her not to leave him Friday. She had said she needed to see her doctor because she was worried about her blood sugar levels and her cholesterol. As it turned out, they were high as was her weight, her doctor was running very late, and she waited a long time for the pharmacy to fill her prescriptions. Although her appointment had been scheduled for 8:30 a.m., she hadn't returned to the HCC until after noon. When she got there, Dad's fever was raging, and the relief person hadn't notified the HCC personnel in time. He had been checking Dad for a fever by pressing his hand against Dad's cheek. Another example of that person's enormous ineptitude. About a week before this, Dad's doctor had warned me that if the relief caregiver wasn't more on top of things, he'd kill my dad. Carmi had asked me if I would keep the guy on as long as Dad was in a medical facility. Against my better judgement, I agreed. I just didn't think he could have done anything so negligent in that environment with the safety nets they had in place. I was wrong and I'll have to live with that. Laura and Kyle arrived later Saturday morning. I started making phone calls. Beth was in transit from being up in northern Idaho and was returning home. She arranged to stay the night at her daughter's near the airport while her husband continued home. What was I feeling then? I couldn't identify it. I was numb. I can't say I was surprised; Dad was 92 and he had been fighting this pneumonia for over seven weeks. His health had been going downhill for a good six to eight months. There was a part of me that was relieved he didn't have to fight anymore. There was a part of me that was glad he wasn't going to have to suffer any further indignities to his body. He had been so ill so many times, and I had gotten used to the trips back and forth to the hospital. During the week or so he had become unable to speak clearly. The feeding tube he'd been given on his 92nd birthday had been an assault to both his physical and mental being. This death on this day could have been avoided, but I believe we would only have been able to postpone the inevitable a few more days. The intervals between hospital visits were getting shorter and shorter, and the antibiotics were less and less effective. This time he had been off the antibiotics only a matter of hours before his fever had returned. Later, talking to a friend whose father had also been a daughter, she said, "My dad always said pneumonia was an old person's friend because it would take them out." That is certainly true.