It’s fallen to me to gather old photos of my husband’s late sister for her celebration of life.
Her daughter is still having a hard time…so the get together will be small, informal, and at her home. I’m going to set up a table of remembrance with flowers, this plaque…
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A guest book where people can share memories…
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A flameless candle…
And a large digital frame filled with pictures that will play continuously like a slideshow.
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It’s been bittersweet collecting and uploading the photographs.
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Life.
It’s fleeting…
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And over far too soon.
I shed quite a few tears looking at the 160 pictures I’ve pulled together, but every once in a while I’d smile. Like when I found this old family portrait proof of my husband and his 8 brother and sisters. (Hint- he’s the one in uniform. Top left.)
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And sometimes I even laughed.
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That’s my husband, standing behind his late sister on the right. The couple with them had just gotten married and I think he was the best man.
This is the last picture taken of my husband and his sister.
She had asked him to bring her one of his Marine Corps hats so she could wear it in honor of his service. He happily obliged.
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My sister in law passed a few weeks ago and it’s just now I can bring myself to blog about it. For those of you who read regularly, you know it was a blessing… and sadly what she wanted.
But that doesn’t mean it was easy.
We received the call from her daughter Monday at noon and rushed over to the nursing home to be with her. Though you know it’s inevitable, losing your mother is hard… and slowly watching her die? Just about unbearable.
It was a bedside death watch with everything that implies. Five family members and a close friend, sitting… and waiting. Watching her painfully gasp for breath, float in and out of consciousness and be given enough morphine to drop a horse. You could tell even the nurses were surprised how long she hung on.
Tears? I cried rivers and couldn’t stop. But not just for her…. it was watching her daughter trying to let go that really broke my heart. When it finally happened, 11 hours later, her daughter simply crumpled to the floor. Broken, exhausted, and physically spent.
We did everything we could to help then… emotionally and financially. Which is why the next day found us at the funeral home making arrangements for cremation.
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Death is big business, never forget that. I’ve learned painful … not to mention expensive… lessons about what is necessary and what is superfluous charging for things you don’t know you don’t need.
We chose the same place that cared for my mother, my husband’s mother and his brother. A small, honest, family run business… which are getting harder to find these days. We made the arrangements, we paid, we picked up her remains and brought them to her daughter a week later.
A small celebration of life is being planned at her daughter’s house for Labor Day weekend and we’ll try to help with that as well.
My SIL’s struggle is over.
Her daughter’s struggle… trying to understand why her mother could never find joy in life… is ongoing.
We were told my husband’s cousin would call us. We thought it would be to lift the ridiculous no family visitors ban he’d implemented at Uncle Donny’s bedside .. but we were wrong.
When he finally did call and leave a message?
It was to tell us his father had passed.
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Uncle Donny.
When we lived in North Carolina he would visit once or twice a year. Our cat Bubba instantly adopted him.
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He was a Vietnam vet with over 20 years in the Air Force. An honest and decent man.
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Seen here with his sister, my husband’s mother.
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If you needed money to pay your rent? Uncle Donny.
If you needed someone to help you move? Uncle Donny.
If your child needed school clothes, a car, college tuition? Uncle Donny.
He was a lovable goofball with a big generous heart.
Though I hold him personally responsible for my spouse’s addiction to yard saling and filling our cellar with crap, I also have fond memories of trolling flea markets with him and enjoying his childlike glee when he would find a “treasure”.
We visited my husband’s uncle in the hospice last week. He was in good spirits…. laughing and joking with the nurses.
When we visited yesterday? We were met by a nurse who said we weren’t allowed in his room and then ushered into the chapel.
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We were told to wait here for someone to come talk to us.
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We waited and a woman we hardly knew, someone my husband’s uncle called ‘niece’ but wasn’t actually related, came in to inform us the uncle had taken a turn for the worse a few days before and was totally unresponsive. The end being near, his son was flying in that day from Florida and left instructions no visitors were to be allowed.
Needless to say we were beyond shocked.
Barred from seeing him. Barred from saying goodbye.
It was all I could do to stop my husband from storming the beachhead.
Since the son is legally next of kin and has power of attorney, the facility listens to him. There was nothing we could do.
Since we’ve been emotionally overwhelmed and beyond busy with my SIL’s situation over the past month… other things have taken a back seat. And though I hate to admit it, that included visits to my husband’s elderly uncle. We’d been going once a week to visit, bring groceries and run errands but hadn’t done anything other than call in three. And then the other day, we found that his phone had been disconnected.
A visit to his house found it locked up tight, blinds drawn and truck missing.
A few frantic phone calls later….
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We arrived at the V.A. hospice facility.
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A huge campus with a pond and strolling flocks of Canada Geese. And unlike a lot of Veterans Affairs hospitals, a complex with an excellent reputation and amazing care.
It was here that we found my husband’s soon to be 91 year old uncle.
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A recent trip to the emergency room revealed he is riddled with bone cancer and has a mass on his lung.
He won’t be going home.
But honestly? He’s alright.. and has made his peace. He was in good spirits, joking, telling old stories and flirting with the hot and cold running nurses who are catering to his every whim.
This place is amazing.
Private rooms with a fridge, microwave and Bose sound system.
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A large menu. Room service food whenever you want it. An ice cream and dessert cart that goes door to door like the Good Humor truck.
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The high tech bed has Wi-Fi and a USB port.
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With multi colored light reflections on the floor.
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They even hooked up a DVD player and brought him John Wayne movies.
The staff is kind, compassionate and go out of their way to make him as comfortable as possible.
Losing a loved one is never easy, but he’s in a wonderful place and being well looked after. He’s a widower with one son who lives in Florida… so we’re going to do our best to visit as often as we can.
When the hospice facility did an assessment on my SIL and determined she didn’t “rate” that level of care anymore, the search for a nursing home bed began. We were assured she could stay at the hospice until one became available, but they neglected to mention the bill would have to be privately paid from that moment on.
Our poor niece has been carrying that (pay in advance) $500 a day burden for weeks. When she said she was already $10,000 in, we realized we couldn’t let her pay the $1,000 fee The Dump Guys were going to charge to haul away the remainder of things in her mother’s apartment.
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So we filled my husband’s truck.
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We filled the apartment complex’s dumpster.
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And we filled a friend’s truck and trailer. Then we made arrangements to donate the whole lot.
But first, a much needed moment of laughter.
There were three bottles of Bud Light left in the refrigerator, and after pinning a stray rainbow earring on a friends shirt in celebration of the now hated beer, we smiled for the first time all day.
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Even our niece, who doesn’t drink… and had just broken down in tears after seeing all her mother’s things ready to leave for the last time… smiled.
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Love… not to mention laughter … really are the best medicines.
Since I dumped a rare personal feelings blog about my SIL on you recently, I thought it only proper to offer an update.
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Unbelievably and against all odds, she’s still at the hospice. Relatively alert, and though weak as a new born kitten, starting to regain her appetite.
I can’t stress how remarkable this is. She was literally on her way out. We saw it, the doctors were waiting for it and yet here we are two weeks later and they say she doesn’t require further hospice care and will be moved to a nursing home soon.
I’d say this is good news but sadly it’s not. She wants to die. She keeps telling everyone we should have let her go. She has completely lost the will to live and takes no joy in anything.
We visit 2-3 times a week and tell her we love her. We bring her favorite foods and try to lighten her mood. I send her a photo of better and happier days every morning. We’ve had long, deep, emotionally draining talks, but I’m at my wits end how to help.
Maybe I can’t.
Maybe I should just stop trying.
I hate to say it, but she’s so sad and miserable maybe it would have been better if she had just slipped away.
The beautiful stray cat we fell in love with and gave a home?
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Has been returned to his rightful owners.
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I think you can guess that wasn’t my choice…. but when you receive a call from the local police department, there really isn’t any way to avoid it.
Apparently his people had been frantically searching for him but aren’t active on social media and didn’t see my original posts about finding him. A friend of theirs alerted a lost animal site…
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And there really was no doubt.
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After the police gave me their phone number, I found this on my FB messenger.
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Damn.
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They live right up the road from us.
The guilt was strong, because I really wanted to keep him.
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But look, he has a twin brother.
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Double damn. There were worried children.
I had to call.
So I called.
They came, they thanked us profusely, they took their beautiful kitty, and yes…. I cried.
I knew it would probably happen, but it doesn’t make it any easier to take.
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Our little blue eyed Bambi is all alone now.
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We haven’t seen his mother, the old always pregnant doe, for weeks. She was nearly skeletal the last time she visited and I think her poor old body just had enough.
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I’m glad she taught the little guy this was a safe place for his daily nosh. I just hope he can hook up with the rest of the herd before the full brunt of winter sets in. There’s safety in numbers when you’re a little fella.
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