I learned that people go literally crazy when someone they know dies. I have always avoided funerals. My close friend died when we were teenagers–he flipped his dad’s boat and truck near our favorite lake, rolling the truck and throwing him from the cab. I refused to go to his funeral. My parents didn’t make me go, and his parents were so concerned they sent his older sister (who I had been sweet on for 6 years) to come talk to me.
The first funeral I went to was after I was a father. A dear friend, Chad had lost his eight year old boy. Smothered himself in his sleep in a bunkbed. My heart almost beat out of my chest seeing that miniature coffin sitting there on the table. I just grabbed Chad and we wept. Just couldn’t imagine the pain of losing one of my boys, and was damned if I’d let Chad suffer alone.
But both those families shifted. Something snapped. Some have weathered the challenges, tried to make the most of their circumstances and grow, while other family members completely gave up and went off the deep end. My family was no exception, and those who have dealt with death in the family, and have substantially sized families, know where I’m about to go.
Courtesy, common sense and natural family protocol go right out the window.
Example: Mom is married to my father. Young sweethearts my parents were–adored each other. Now, when my mom died, my mind said ‘I need to look out for dad’. Yet the consensus with all but one or two of my siblings (there are 10 of us) was “what do I get now that mom’s dead?”
I’m talking about sisters going through my mothers belongings unbeknown to my father, scavenging what they could, then petitioning my father for my mothers priceless engagement ring! Verbal fights about who has a “right” to this and that, who “deserves” this and that… EXCUSE ME!?? While I watched a mourning father who lost the love of his life, weeping.
Rights?! Deserves?!! DID DAD JUST DIE TOO? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SELFISH VOMIT BAGS THINKING!???
Am I crazy here…or wouldn’t everything my mother possessed belong to my father, especially when they had acquired it together over their marriage? Did the will and feelings of my father no longer matter? Well, I hate to say this, but the fights and selfishness grew.
Some came to their senses after a substantial yelling from myself (the oldest and by far the meanest, black and white thinker of the bunch) and from my wonderful sister Cory (who was IN the accident…and lost one of her baby twins in the same accident). But the family broke apart with that event. It’s still broken. When everyone got an open, uncensored look into the hearts of their siblings. To see the true values. Motivations.
I wanted to vomit. I kept myself, Kathi and the kids as far from the chaos as I could, and just tried, with uncle Bob and Dad, to be the support and peacemakers. Well, I carried a bat.
In the end, dad showed up at my house late one evening. It had been a few months since the accident and the funueral. He pulled me aside and asked me what I wanted of moms. I told him nothing. It was his and I would never presume to take something that didn’t belong to me.
“You never asked for anything, Jaime.” he said with a tear filled smile. “Not once.”
“It’s ok dad.”
He shook his head. “No, it isn’t. I want you to have something. Anything. Name one thing and it’s yours.”
I just cried, because I always wished I could have one simple thing, but had refused to ask. It was silly anyway.
My dad watched me closely, and smiled, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. “What can I give you?”
“I sure would love a bottle of that ghastly perfume mom wore. One she was using. One she touched, so I can put some on my pillow at night when I miss her too much.”
My father pulled mom’s half-used bottle of perfume from his pocket andf handed it to me.
“I thought you might.”
He kissed me on the forehead like a little child and left.
My Latest Book
