One Thing At A Time
I really need to get back on the writing bandwagon.
So much has happened in the past 3 weeks since my sister’s death that I’m just not where to start. I mean, there’s the tales of my marathon 1,500 mile drive to Spokane, my being executor of the estate, which meant EVERY damn decision was mine, the battle in my family over the estate and will (Paula was single with no children), my 1,500 mile drive home, towing a U-Haul full of records, papers, and a new washer/dryer, or my trying to put my world back together after stepping away for 17 days. Sigh. It’ll take me a while to put my world back in one piece, but as the lovely Mrs. G. likes to remind me, “One thing at a time.”
One thing at a time. Excellent advice.
So let’s start with the night (technically, early morning) it all began.
Saturday, July 30, 12:36 AM. The phone rings. It turns out it’s my cousin Fred calling, a man whom I’ve never actually met. (Fred is 26 years older than me and lived several hundred miles away when I was growing up, so we never did run into each other.) Regardless, Fred was now calling me at 12:36 AM. Never a good sign.
“I’m here with your Mom,” he says. “Your sister Paula had another heart attack tonight. She didn’t make it.”
Now, keeping in mind that I wasn’t much awake by this point, the first thought that went through my mind (after “who the hell is Fred and why is he calling me?”, of course) was “Didn’t make what?” What exactly didn’t Paula make? Didn’t make her bed? Didn’t make a tee time? What are you talking about?
Then it hit me. Oh. She didn’t make IT. The Big It. Oh.
And with that, I learned that my sister Paula was dead at the age of 54.
I spent the next few hours talking with the lovely Mrs. G., Miss Katie (who was still visiting the X in Seattle), and my younger sister Allie, and sitting up wondering what the hell was going on, and what I was going to do about it. You see, three years ago Paula had asked me to be executor of her estate, and it was now apparently my duty to close out her life and see that her final wishes were honored. When I agreed to be her executor I figured I’d have at least another 20 years to worry about it; but I guess this goes to prove that you never really do know when your time is up, do you?
So anyway I finally got to sleep at around 6:00 AM, and managed to rest for a couple of hours. I got up, made some phone calls to Skippy Whitebread, went and talked to the nice people at Rhymes with Farnes and Roble. The jobs were all cool about my leaving, which I’m thankful for. I was supposed to be on vacation the following week and a half anyway (ironically, I was going to visit Paula and my mom in Spokane - turns out I was 9 days too late), and with the bereavement leave, I was able to get out of town almost right away.
With that, I loaded up Mrs. G.’s Blazer, slept for a few hours, then hit the road, bright and early at 2:30 AM Sunday.
Sioux City, IA to Spokane, WA is a 1,500 mile jaunt. It’d be insane to try to drive all that way in one day (you really need to have your mental faculties about you when going through those winding mountain passes of Montana/Idaho), but I went as far as I could. 16 hours and 1,100 miles later, I finally stopped in Missoula, Montana. Mrs. G.’s parents live there, and I knew I’d have a hot meal and a nice warm bed waiting for me. Sure enough, the in-laws were more than accommodating, and I was estatic that they took my poor tired body in for the night. My left arm was stiff from driving for so long (I’d only stopped four times for gas and 3 times for rest stops, and that’s it), so I soaked for quite a while in the Jacuzzi tub before collapsing for the night in their spare basement bedroom.
Monday AM I left Missoula and continued into Spokane, after stopping in Coeur D’Alene, ID to see my brother-in-law and his family for a while. I finally made it to Spokane at around 3:00, where my Mom and sister Allie were already at Paula’s house.
My sister Paula was in bad shape – bad diabetes, kidney failure, a quadruple bypass, and 5 previous heart attacks will do that to you. She’d recently been hospitalized (since April), but came home about a month ago. She had heart attack #6, which was apparently her number. So in some small way it’s a blessing that she didn’t suffer and drag out in a coma or brain dead or anything. But it just goes to prove that you have to take care of yourself, because nobody else will do it for you. She’d been diabetic for years, but still ate tons of sugar and crap. Maybe the doctors know what they’re talking about? Regardless, Paula was a good person with an amazingly positive spirit and cheerful attitude.
The rest of the first day was spent catching up with my family, trying to keep my sister calm about the will (more on that soon), trying to make sure my mom was okay, and meeting more cousins I’d never met before. I met cousin Fred and his wife Mary that afternoon, along with cousin Dick and his wife Pat (I’d met Dick once when I was about 12 or so, at a family reunion, but other than that hadn’t seen him in 28 years), and some of their kids, and we spent a few hours getting to know each other.
Is it possible to lose a sister but gain a new family you never knew you had? I’ll be the first one to say YES. Fred, Mary, Dick, and Pat were wonderful to me, and I’m only sorry that I didn’t get to know them years ago. More on them soon, too. (One thing at a time, right?)
Anyway, night one wasn’t that much fun, but it was nice to see my family come together. Mostly. My brother Studly McStud hadn’t shown up yet, and we were still awaiting word on when he’d bless us with his presence. And Miss Katie was still in Seattle, and was begging me to spring for a plane ticket so she could come over to Spokane right away. (Partially so she could be there with her family, and partially to escape her mother.) The lovely Mrs. G. had to stay behind in Sioux City to work on a Federal court case and to coordinate leaving our home behind, so I spent my first night at the Spokane Ramada alone – just me and my tired-of-driving bones.
In the next part of this long drawn-out tale I’ll have to tell you about the will. And what a little bit of money can do to otherwise normally nice people. Greed is an ugly, ugly thing, my friends.
Until then...
So much has happened in the past 3 weeks since my sister’s death that I’m just not where to start. I mean, there’s the tales of my marathon 1,500 mile drive to Spokane, my being executor of the estate, which meant EVERY damn decision was mine, the battle in my family over the estate and will (Paula was single with no children), my 1,500 mile drive home, towing a U-Haul full of records, papers, and a new washer/dryer, or my trying to put my world back together after stepping away for 17 days. Sigh. It’ll take me a while to put my world back in one piece, but as the lovely Mrs. G. likes to remind me, “One thing at a time.”
One thing at a time. Excellent advice.
So let’s start with the night (technically, early morning) it all began.
Saturday, July 30, 12:36 AM. The phone rings. It turns out it’s my cousin Fred calling, a man whom I’ve never actually met. (Fred is 26 years older than me and lived several hundred miles away when I was growing up, so we never did run into each other.) Regardless, Fred was now calling me at 12:36 AM. Never a good sign.
“I’m here with your Mom,” he says. “Your sister Paula had another heart attack tonight. She didn’t make it.”
Now, keeping in mind that I wasn’t much awake by this point, the first thought that went through my mind (after “who the hell is Fred and why is he calling me?”, of course) was “Didn’t make what?” What exactly didn’t Paula make? Didn’t make her bed? Didn’t make a tee time? What are you talking about?
Then it hit me. Oh. She didn’t make IT. The Big It. Oh.
And with that, I learned that my sister Paula was dead at the age of 54.
I spent the next few hours talking with the lovely Mrs. G., Miss Katie (who was still visiting the X in Seattle), and my younger sister Allie, and sitting up wondering what the hell was going on, and what I was going to do about it. You see, three years ago Paula had asked me to be executor of her estate, and it was now apparently my duty to close out her life and see that her final wishes were honored. When I agreed to be her executor I figured I’d have at least another 20 years to worry about it; but I guess this goes to prove that you never really do know when your time is up, do you?
So anyway I finally got to sleep at around 6:00 AM, and managed to rest for a couple of hours. I got up, made some phone calls to Skippy Whitebread, went and talked to the nice people at Rhymes with Farnes and Roble. The jobs were all cool about my leaving, which I’m thankful for. I was supposed to be on vacation the following week and a half anyway (ironically, I was going to visit Paula and my mom in Spokane - turns out I was 9 days too late), and with the bereavement leave, I was able to get out of town almost right away.
With that, I loaded up Mrs. G.’s Blazer, slept for a few hours, then hit the road, bright and early at 2:30 AM Sunday.
Sioux City, IA to Spokane, WA is a 1,500 mile jaunt. It’d be insane to try to drive all that way in one day (you really need to have your mental faculties about you when going through those winding mountain passes of Montana/Idaho), but I went as far as I could. 16 hours and 1,100 miles later, I finally stopped in Missoula, Montana. Mrs. G.’s parents live there, and I knew I’d have a hot meal and a nice warm bed waiting for me. Sure enough, the in-laws were more than accommodating, and I was estatic that they took my poor tired body in for the night. My left arm was stiff from driving for so long (I’d only stopped four times for gas and 3 times for rest stops, and that’s it), so I soaked for quite a while in the Jacuzzi tub before collapsing for the night in their spare basement bedroom.
Monday AM I left Missoula and continued into Spokane, after stopping in Coeur D’Alene, ID to see my brother-in-law and his family for a while. I finally made it to Spokane at around 3:00, where my Mom and sister Allie were already at Paula’s house.
My sister Paula was in bad shape – bad diabetes, kidney failure, a quadruple bypass, and 5 previous heart attacks will do that to you. She’d recently been hospitalized (since April), but came home about a month ago. She had heart attack #6, which was apparently her number. So in some small way it’s a blessing that she didn’t suffer and drag out in a coma or brain dead or anything. But it just goes to prove that you have to take care of yourself, because nobody else will do it for you. She’d been diabetic for years, but still ate tons of sugar and crap. Maybe the doctors know what they’re talking about? Regardless, Paula was a good person with an amazingly positive spirit and cheerful attitude.
The rest of the first day was spent catching up with my family, trying to keep my sister calm about the will (more on that soon), trying to make sure my mom was okay, and meeting more cousins I’d never met before. I met cousin Fred and his wife Mary that afternoon, along with cousin Dick and his wife Pat (I’d met Dick once when I was about 12 or so, at a family reunion, but other than that hadn’t seen him in 28 years), and some of their kids, and we spent a few hours getting to know each other.
Is it possible to lose a sister but gain a new family you never knew you had? I’ll be the first one to say YES. Fred, Mary, Dick, and Pat were wonderful to me, and I’m only sorry that I didn’t get to know them years ago. More on them soon, too. (One thing at a time, right?)
Anyway, night one wasn’t that much fun, but it was nice to see my family come together. Mostly. My brother Studly McStud hadn’t shown up yet, and we were still awaiting word on when he’d bless us with his presence. And Miss Katie was still in Seattle, and was begging me to spring for a plane ticket so she could come over to Spokane right away. (Partially so she could be there with her family, and partially to escape her mother.) The lovely Mrs. G. had to stay behind in Sioux City to work on a Federal court case and to coordinate leaving our home behind, so I spent my first night at the Spokane Ramada alone – just me and my tired-of-driving bones.
In the next part of this long drawn-out tale I’ll have to tell you about the will. And what a little bit of money can do to otherwise normally nice people. Greed is an ugly, ugly thing, my friends.
Until then...
posted by Tommy G at
9:58 AM
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