Held Tilt

 Yesterday I had a work meeting, well two actually.  More on that in a minute.

This is my first real peopling experience since Dad died and I didn't think about it at all beforehand.

As I'm driving to the college, where I've been to and been past thousands of times, I felt it start. The mthr effing grief.  I drove past where my grandfather's house used to be and is now a strip mall of offices.  I made a left instead of a right to go to the facility, as I've been doing the past two years.  I'm looking at the mountain that I looked at every single day of my life until age nineteen.  I attended this college for a short time when I was eighteen.

So, I'm having big feelings before I even get out of my car.  I met an advocate from work as I walked toward the building so that distracted me from the big feelings for a minute.

We went into the conference room and I sat next to my job partner and next to a colleague whom I've recently gotten to know a little better because of *all of this*  Job partner knows to just act normal, we're wired very similarly.  Colleague is chill as well.

Male Colleague enters the room and sees me, and looks visibly surprised at my presence.  He does the head-tilt, soft "How are you doing?" and to my surprise, I got teary.  Brushed it off with "Doing okay, just getting through it"  He continues with sympathy/empathy and I have to focus on breathing.  Don't get me wrong, it's appreciated and he was wholly appropriate and kind.

Then others enter and it breaks the moment.  Colleague who is chill quietly says "I kept the seat next to me open so you could sit here.  That way you're blocked from people and safe, if you want."  It was so thoughtful and appreciated and something that I didn't even consider when I rsvp'd to this meeting.

Next up is the Director and she simply said it was nice to see me and hoped I was doing well.  Caring yet objective.

We get through the meeting and lunch is provided.  The Mental Health Consultant is there as well and sure enough was in line next to me while we're getting lunch.  Head-tilt #2 "How are you doing?"  I said that I was "Doing okay, just getting through it.  Hey, I like your haircut and YES, that is a deflection."

Because I'm not crying in this stupid meeting.  Again, heart was in the right place and doing her actual job by checking in.  But she doesn't know me well and sigh.

So, we are getting lunch and chatting when it's announced that the Advocate meeting was after lunch.  Normally I attend those so I look at my job partner like "What?"  She said "You don't need to attend, you can bail.  We weren't going to ask you this time."  Omg, stop being nice, it's killing me.

I stayed through the relevant part of the meeting and after I finished my update, I mentioned "Oh, by the way, even though I've had a lot of time off due to illness and death, I will be out for the next week on vacation."  Positive comments all around and someone mentioned "You never take time off..."  I replied that "It feels weird taking vacation when I work from HOME" which garnered a round of "That's silly! Take vacation!" etc.  Which then also was ended with job partner stating "You've been through A LOT this year, take your time, dammit."

Kindness mixed with sass, it was appreciated.

So, that was super fun and unexpected.  That's the way of grief, it likes to surprise you like that.

For reference: Sympathetic Head Tilt link

Unpublished Draft

Started 4/30/2014

What had happened was: Nephew has Crohn's Disease and spent four (?) months in the hospital, three of which were at University of Washington Medical Center.  He went septic at the local hospital and was med-flighted to Seattle.

This is a year plus two weeks since I'd broken my foot off of my leg at work. (freak accident) and spent two days in the hospital and 60 days bedrest and six month recovery.  Then my s-i-l was in a terrible accident on the freeway at the tail end of the above two incidents. (hurt but not Hurt Hurt)

And I think this was right when I started to realize that I shouldn't drive at night anymore.

We went racing for the first time this year.  This is the latest start that we have gotten, ever. Not even with me all broken up last year.

It didn't go as well as we'd hoped, after spending the off season upgrading but it's not like there was anything bad happening, we just had a glitch. We just had to concentrate on personal best and remind ourselves that we're still pretty cool, just not as cool as we had hoped.

The Nephew was able to come with us so that was another step toward normal.  He still weighs in the 150 pound area so watching friends that hadn't seen him yet was heart breaking.  As much as we try to explain (warn) people, a person just can't imagine it.

We got to hang out with our friends and that in and of itself was healing.  We still see them in the off-season but being able to spend three days with them was wonderful.

I was able to ride up with Kevin on Friday so we got our truly only alone time in a long while.  Yes, we live in house together but all it takes is a phone ring, puppy bark, the sound of feet in the gravel or the shop door opening and all is interrupted.

I'm still on strike over camping at the racetrack because I'm 44 years old and that seems ridiculous. (the camping and the 44 years old thing, both equally ridiculous) So, I came home alone one night and both of us one night.  I like to drive so the trip back and forth is a treat for me. Crossing the border doesn't bother me at all.  I just have a book in case I ever get stuck in a back-up.  Some of the border guards say "Welcome Home" when we come back and it's strangely very nice to hear.

P.S.

I'm now 57 yrs. old.  We're not racing competitively anymore and everything has changed (obvs).  But: I can drive at night again and everyone is healed.

There's Nothing - Raising Parents Prologue

 Okay, so it's been two weeks.  It has had it's moments for sure and like everyone says: it's usually not the big things that get overwhelming.

Today I approved the headstone, yesterday I got the phone call that they had been interred.  Today I got notification that Social Security is taking back it's money - as they should.  I returned his pacemaker via fedex, something I wouldn't have thought of until I opened the box I brought home to make sure I didn't forget anything.  His phone has completely disappeared from our bill, as if it never existed. I have to think that the very kind woman I spoke with months ago at the carrier just clicked a button to make that happen.

His doctor sent a condolence card.  The cardiologist sent a note via his MyChart, which went dark before I could read it.  The ombudswomen sent condolences via email.  The advocate texted us a few times.  And...nothing from the facility.  Shocking.

The "party" has been scheduled and announced.  It's on 6/7 and if you have school age children, you just groaned.  But it made me laugh in the moment.  We don't know if everyone is going to show or just a few.  The cousins all live elsewhere now and there are no aunts or uncles who can attend. (dead, in a facility, or too far to drive)  We're at that milestone of our lives now.

I learned that listening to Luke Combs was not my best idea.  He has two songs that are dead dad songs so that was super fun for me while I'm assembling a patio coffee table on the kitchen floor wishing my father-in-law was next door to help me.

I returned to work early, as did Kevin.  We both just needed normalcy.  We needed a schedule and predictability.  Then my work, which is usually not sentimental, sent a signed card and today I received a care package from the wellness group.  I'm not crying, you're crying.

So, the point of that recap is the busyness is kind of a gift when a death happens. It gives you things to do and plan and think about other than the Bad Thing That Happened.  But now, it's mostly all done.  What's left is ceremonial, if you will.  After that...there's nothing.

We're orphans.  One usually thinks of Annie or Oliver Twist when you hear orphans. Or of children, but feeling orphaned as an adult is a particular kind of sad. It's just us now. Even though they were dependent on us for the past four years, there was a comfort of having parents.  And now there's nothing.

It's Over - A Raising Parents Update

 Okay, hi hello.

So, for everyone who has been reading along, one would think that we would be "Ohhh, finally..." when my father-in-law finally passed.  And you would be right.  Except...

When Kevin got the call from Hospice, he was running equipment.  He said he listened and when they said the words, he sat back and exclaimed "WHAT!?!" in surprise.

Because what had happened was: we were expecting it.  The nurse at the facility had said it was starting to happen.  The Hospice nurse was more tentative but agreed, because He Had Tricked Us Before. So we were aware.

Yet when you hear the words, it's disconcerting.  There's a tiny bit of relief, there's loss. But it's still a shock.  Then if you're wired like Kevin and I, there's "What's next?"

The previous week his dad had been steadily declining and we were wondering how he could possibly go on much longer.  Yet, he was.  We saw him on Sunday and knew it was happening.  He had entered into the Terminal Agitation phase, which gives a two-week window.  It's also said that it passes into a peaceful, coma-like state.  Yeah, no. He was angry up until the day before.  Like Angry angry.  Swatting/swinging at staff, kicking, angry.

We chose not to sit vigil.  Because of his agitated state - and the last year of him being angry at us - we felt it was better for all involved if we stayed away to give everyone a chance for as much peace as possible. (He demanded that Kevin take him home in one of their last conversations. Kevin lied and said he had to go back to work and couldn't)    Hospice and the facility agreed it was okay for us to skip this part.  Also and more importantly, we feel like he would have hated that, us sitting vigil.  He would have hated the past two years of his life, actually.

The social worker who loved him sat with him and walked him through to the next life.  We could not have asked for a better person for him to be with.  For as crappy as our experience was with the facility, she is amazing.

Everything was pre-arranged so Hospice just had to make a call to come get him.  The funeral home called us for a signature and most everything was finished.  (Tip fifty-eleven: if you're able, do pre-arrangements for your death.  We're going to make that a goal next year.  At the very least, write down all your wishes)

I spent yesterday in the car. Crying a little bit in the car.  I went to the facility to pick up his stuff and sign a form.  While waiting, I saw both the Executive Director and the Director of Nursing. I said a pleasant hello to the Executive Director and used her first name.  She said a friendly hello but clearly had ZERO IDEA who I was.  I didn't want her condolences but I expected them.  The Nursing Director did not acknowledge my presence until the third time she walked past me yet still didn't indicate she knew me.  Upon her retreat, I stuck my tongue out at her back.  To my pleasure, someone on staff saw me and stifled a giggle.

I met the Social Worker and we chatted as we walked the ridiculously long hallway to her office. I dropped off a big bag of mixed Dove Chocolates at the nurses desk with a thank you card and that distracted me from looking into my father-in-law's room.  (I'm certain it was already filled, as it should be)  

We went through his boxes and I took one small box. We donated his clothing and bedding to the facility.  Someone else can enjoy his sportsball shirts and have cozy flannel sheets.  There was a whopping $75 cash left from his account and she gave it to me.  I slid it back to her and said "Kevin says you more than earned this, buy yourself something pretty.  Or go to dinner.  Or go to the dollar store"  

And that's when the tears started.  She broke first then that broke me.  We hugged it out and I left.  But not before seeing one of his nurses as I went down the hallway.  I stopped and said who I was and her face fell.  She rubbed my shoulder and expressed condolences and now everyone's crying again.  

Next stop was the funeral home.  I was having a little deja vu because I was just there three years ago, almost to the date.  This funeral home is like something out of a Halloween Hallmark movie.  It's perfectly nice but it leans hard into the funeral home aesthetic.  

I signed more forms and picked him up. I chose a nice but plain wooden box, kind of like a manly jewelry box.  I mentioned that it was heavier than I expected.  She asked me if I needed help out to the car and I declined.  She helped with the door and asked again.  "What's the worst thing that could happen?" I asked, laughing "I would drop him?"

Dear readers, she was horrified.  HORRIFIED.  Which, because I'm wired different, made me laugh.

Next, I buckled him into the backseat of my car.  Mom was already buckled in and we were ready to go.  This funeral home is on the south side of the county and I was traveling to the north side of the next county north.  I had already bought a coffee and a car wash (which I'm sure Mom hated the car wash)  I knew in real she would like to take the scenic route there but she was stuck with the freeway and that's okay.

The cemetery is so far away and I always, always think that I took the wrong turn. But it's just far away.  And it's so lovely.  It's huge and pretty and quiet.  The funeral home portion isn't as staid as the other one and that's nice.  

Even though they were expecting me, she seemed surprised when I said that I was there to drop my parents off.  I know, I know, I Know, but humor is a defense mechanism.  First I brought in my f-i-l then had to go back out to the car to get my m-i-l.  I set her on the counter and the woman commented how beautiful her urn was.  So, of course, I told her the story about the person being hesitant to sell it to us and how it was on clearance, etc.  She looked at me and said "Seriously, this is one of the most beautiful ones I've ever seen."  So, that was good.

I signed more paperwork and it...was all done.  After three really hard years, it was all done.  Walking out to the car, it hit me: there's nothing to worry about, there's nothing to fix, there's nothing to think about.  For the first time in three years. Honestly, that was almost as hard as the loss of the people.

So, not one to dwell but also one to fuss a scab, I went and found their stillborn son's grave.  We had purchased a marker for him after Mom passed but I hadn't seen it installed.  It took me a minute because they had mown the grass but not cleared the clippings.  It needed cleaning so I went to the car and got water and a towel then  I talked to him for a minute while I cleaned. I will take clippers and a better cleaner when we return to see the parents headstone.

Once I got home, I left the box of Dad's stuff on the counter.  But the clutter bothered me so I went through it. (also, I didn't want Kevin to have to deal with it)  There was nothing super surprising or special.  His notepad of blood pressure readings and phone numbers (I didn't program his phone with all the numbers because he was being a butthead at the time)  His blood pressure cuff, his hearing aides - of which I've already lost one, and his watch.  All of the life he had (almost 88 years) and that was all the physical belongings left.  There's some realism, right there.

I had to call the pacemaker monitoring company to return his monitor.  I notified his doctors. I have to go mail notices to the credit bureaus and drop off the death certificate at the bank today.  Then I'm done with the paperwork and legal stuff.

The memorial will be here, at the siblings house, in a few weeks.  It will be the same as Mom's, unstructured with too much food.  The family is smaller now so we are not sure what to expect.  Until then, I will work on another photo album and the memorial card but that will be "easy", I have all the stuff I need from last time.

Now Kevin is back to work and I decided to go back tomorrow.  I had scheduled the week off but now I feel like I need normal and a schedule.  Not that I have any idea what normal is, or what it will look like now.

Married 67.5 years and lived well into their 80's
We should all be so lucky.

Finally, An End - A Raising Parents Update

Our dad joined the love of his life in whatever comes next after failing health and after dementia stole him away first. He passed mid-day April 30, 2026.

He was the giver of inappropriate nicknames, the sayer of nonsensical greetings, an awkward flirt, and the hardest-working man that you will ever meet.     

He leaves behind his two sons, their wives/his “daughters” ; his granddaughter and husband and their child; Grandson and wife and their children. He was beyond proud to welcome his great-grandson and namesake in 2016.

 He also leaves behind his brother and sister and many, many nieces and nephews.  He was predeceased by his parents, a newborn son, nieces, two sisters and one brother and many siblings-in-law and their spouses.  

He was born and grew up  in NW WA.  After the fourth grade; knowing he wasn’t wired for school, he quit and began to work odd jobs to help his family.  As legend has it, he began to drive truck hauling hay and was driving hay truck over the pass at fifteen years old. He said that he took that particular hay truck to his driver’s license test and that there was no driving test. Because when they asked what he drove to the appointment,  he pointed at the hay truck and they told him he didn’t need to complete the test, obviously.  

He married Mom on December 21st 1957 at the Knox Community Church. They celebrated their 65th wedding anniversary in December 2022, quietly with visits and calls from family and friends.  Mom passed shortly after their 66th anniversary.  They were inseparable and he gladly spent his retirement caring for her.

They bought their first house when the boys were small.  Later, they spent two years east of the mountains then returned home.  They lived in the Moody House for years with Aunt & Uncle then sold it after Uncle’s death and retired to the Family Compound in 2005.  They purchased their little dream house to sit between the boys properties, completing the compound.

 Upon moving with the family, he became the caretaker of the entire compound: mowing, building, fixing, helping in any way that he could; even when we didn’t want him to. There is not an inch of the compound that he hadn’t worked on.  He was happy and proud to be living with his sons and would tell everyone when he got the chance.

He was a career truck driver, hauling everything from hay to equipment to gravel. He achieved One Million Miles Driven while working at  (redacted) Trucking.  He was awarded Best Driver at (redacted) for making the most runs driving dump truck.  There’s not a vehicle he couldn’t drive and that love took him on many adventures.  When asked, he thought he’d been in all of the 48 states behind the wheel of a truck.  There wasn’t a harder worker than Dad and all it often took was to say “I don’t think you can…” and he would.

He was a jack of all trades and a master at few.  He could work on cars, build just about anything, make a garden, work with wiring and electricity, buck hay or truck tires, work on semi  trucks and help his sons with their racecars.

His proudest moments were hauling each of his son’s racecars down to the Las Vegas Motor Speedway and watching them race their cars. He spent those two weekends telling anyone who would listen how his sons were racing that weekend, all about their cars, and how proud he was of them.

There were few things he loved more than a project.   He would often ponder an idea then say “I was thinking…” which meant something was about to be built, repaired, or improved. Every family member probably has something that he has built; a deck or a bread box or cabinet or a whole shop.

He sold his one and only boat to buy Kevin a car when he was a teenager. He built toy guns out of plywood for his boys when he and Mom couldn’t afford to buy them for Christmas. He gave money he didn’t have to those who needed it.  He brought the girls in his life flowers for their birthdays, anniversaries, and Mother’s Days.  

One of the last coherent things he said to us was “Is there anything I can do for you?”  

He will be terribly missed. We know that he is with Mom again and probably telling stories and fishing.

A memorial gathering will be held at a later date. He will be interred with Mom, near their newborn son, his parents and hers. In honor of his life, go fishing, work in the yard, or build something in his memory.  

We would like to thank  the social worker at Life Care Center-Mt Vernon for her tireless work and taking care of him like he was her dad; the Advocate from DSHS, and Hospice for caring for him in his last days.