Thursday, March 8, 2007
[Death] Stories I Tell My Mother - Part 3
Mom's Brother's Wife:
This relative is the one who isn't mentioned, yet, over at Death Dates because I don't have exact dates on her. She died sometime between 1986 and 1990, though, of this I am sure. Considering that she was older by some years than her husband and outlived him by at least 10 years, I estimate that she was in her late 70's when she died. It's an important death, though, primarily because Mom, alone within her family, looked out for this woman after Mom's brother, the woman's husband, died, was made executor of her will and, as a result, was intimately involved in her death. As well, whenever we talk about Mom's brother's death, she asks about this woman, so I tell her the story of her death.
"Remember, Mom, that in the last years of her life, oh, maybe about five or so, you were pretty much [Mom's sister-in-law]'s short distance caregiver [Mom lived very close to her] and pretty much her only significant relative and friend? Well, because of this, she made you the executor of her will.
"Although I was around at the time, I don't remember the exact circumstances of her death. I do remember that she not only remained a hypochondriac, but, during the last year or so of her life, called the paramedics so often for situations that they judged, over and over, to not be emergent that she was put on notice by them not to call unless she had a "genuine emergency". I also remember that a few months before she died she fell in her bathtub and spent some hours hollering through the walls for help until her next door neighbor came home and alerted the land lady."
"Oh, yes," Mom usually comments, "I remember all that."
"Truth is, I have no idea what her physical health was, although it seemed pretty poor..."
"...It was," Mom usually interjects, "and, she was an alcoholic, too."
"But, she died, and you were duly notified. I think it was her landlady who called you."
"I think so, too," Mom confirms.
"Do you remember what was her cause of death?"
"Nooo," Mom usually says, "it could have been any number of things."
"So, immediately after you were notified of her death, you called her son. For decades there had been a deep rift between him and [Mom's brother and his wife, who were their son's adopted parents] because of that problem when he was in Thailand, with his wife and son, there, and, remember, since he was in the military he had to seek permission from his parents to become officially married so that he could bring them back with him after his tour of duty, and they refused him permission. There was some additional stuff, too, about him finding out, at that time, that he was adopted..."
"...You know," Mom usually adds, "there are some who say that [Mom's brother] was his real father..."
"...yeah, I know. Anyway, it was a mess, and I remember that, initially, he refused to have anything to do with [Mom's sister-in-law]'s death and wasn't going to come out. Finally, although I can't remember why, he decided to come out from Florida and brought his oldest son and daughter with him."
"Oh, yes," she usually says. "It was so nice to meet them! I remember he told me that people call him 'Smitty' and I told him, 'That's what people used to call me.' He wasn't amused."
"I remember. So, immediately upon their arrival [Mom's nephew] pursued two goals: He tried really hard to involve you in Amway..."
Mom usually laughs, here, and says, "Ohhh, yes, I remember that!"
"...and announced that he wanted none of his mother's stuff, didn't want anything to do with settling her estate, he'd leave that up to you. That's how we ended up with a shed full of [Mom's sister-in-law]'s worldly goods. Remember that Kitchen Aid mixer from the 30's? The wooden drying rack? That box full of letters from [Mom's nephew] written when he was in Thailand during that critical time?"
"Did we keep those letters?" she always asks.
"You wanted me to throw them out, but, instead, my curiosity got the best of me and I read them all and decided to keep them."
"Good. I'm glad you did," she always says.
"Grandma and Grandpa had made arrangements to have her buried in their plot up in Prescott next to James."
"That's right."
"Well, that never happened. [Mom's nephew] and his son decided they wanted to scatter her ashes. They knew about Wind Cave, probably from visits [Mom's nephew] may have made many years previous. They decided to scatter her ashes from up there. That was the only service she had."
"Well, that's probably best," Mom sometimes says. "I don't think there were many people who would have attended a family service."
This relative is the one who isn't mentioned, yet, over at Death Dates because I don't have exact dates on her. She died sometime between 1986 and 1990, though, of this I am sure. Considering that she was older by some years than her husband and outlived him by at least 10 years, I estimate that she was in her late 70's when she died. It's an important death, though, primarily because Mom, alone within her family, looked out for this woman after Mom's brother, the woman's husband, died, was made executor of her will and, as a result, was intimately involved in her death. As well, whenever we talk about Mom's brother's death, she asks about this woman, so I tell her the story of her death.
"Remember, Mom, that in the last years of her life, oh, maybe about five or so, you were pretty much [Mom's sister-in-law]'s short distance caregiver [Mom lived very close to her] and pretty much her only significant relative and friend? Well, because of this, she made you the executor of her will.
"Although I was around at the time, I don't remember the exact circumstances of her death. I do remember that she not only remained a hypochondriac, but, during the last year or so of her life, called the paramedics so often for situations that they judged, over and over, to not be emergent that she was put on notice by them not to call unless she had a "genuine emergency". I also remember that a few months before she died she fell in her bathtub and spent some hours hollering through the walls for help until her next door neighbor came home and alerted the land lady."
"Oh, yes," Mom usually comments, "I remember all that."
"Truth is, I have no idea what her physical health was, although it seemed pretty poor..."
"...It was," Mom usually interjects, "and, she was an alcoholic, too."
"But, she died, and you were duly notified. I think it was her landlady who called you."
"I think so, too," Mom confirms.
"Do you remember what was her cause of death?"
"Nooo," Mom usually says, "it could have been any number of things."
"So, immediately after you were notified of her death, you called her son. For decades there had been a deep rift between him and [Mom's brother and his wife, who were their son's adopted parents] because of that problem when he was in Thailand, with his wife and son, there, and, remember, since he was in the military he had to seek permission from his parents to become officially married so that he could bring them back with him after his tour of duty, and they refused him permission. There was some additional stuff, too, about him finding out, at that time, that he was adopted..."
"...You know," Mom usually adds, "there are some who say that [Mom's brother] was his real father..."
"...yeah, I know. Anyway, it was a mess, and I remember that, initially, he refused to have anything to do with [Mom's sister-in-law]'s death and wasn't going to come out. Finally, although I can't remember why, he decided to come out from Florida and brought his oldest son and daughter with him."
"Oh, yes," she usually says. "It was so nice to meet them! I remember he told me that people call him 'Smitty' and I told him, 'That's what people used to call me.' He wasn't amused."
"I remember. So, immediately upon their arrival [Mom's nephew] pursued two goals: He tried really hard to involve you in Amway..."
Mom usually laughs, here, and says, "Ohhh, yes, I remember that!"
"...and announced that he wanted none of his mother's stuff, didn't want anything to do with settling her estate, he'd leave that up to you. That's how we ended up with a shed full of [Mom's sister-in-law]'s worldly goods. Remember that Kitchen Aid mixer from the 30's? The wooden drying rack? That box full of letters from [Mom's nephew] written when he was in Thailand during that critical time?"
"Did we keep those letters?" she always asks.
"You wanted me to throw them out, but, instead, my curiosity got the best of me and I read them all and decided to keep them."
"Good. I'm glad you did," she always says.
"Grandma and Grandpa had made arrangements to have her buried in their plot up in Prescott next to James."
"That's right."
"Well, that never happened. [Mom's nephew] and his son decided they wanted to scatter her ashes. They knew about Wind Cave, probably from visits [Mom's nephew] may have made many years previous. They decided to scatter her ashes from up there. That was the only service she had."
"Well, that's probably best," Mom sometimes says. "I don't think there were many people who would have attended a family service."
