I invite you to take a trip into a parallel dimension. One of neither common sense nor competency. Welcome to the world of the government. Where HAL, the computer in "2001: A Space Odyssey" seems benevolent, and kind. Certainly HAL has a point about human error.
I feel compelled to say the following - this is purely an expression of my own frustration. Also I feel compelled to say that this is a purely bipartisan gripe. I have no idea which administration was in charge of which rules being put in place. Personally, I'm not sure there is a politician with common sense anymore. Both parties seem to spend too much time catering, and not enough time leading.
Let me tell you what happened here. It all started when my Daddy dared to die. He passed away on May 28th. On June 11th, as required to, I notified the Railroad Retirement Bureau. At that time, the very nice, very sympathetic woman informed me that no other actions were necessary other then returning his direct deposit payment within the week. One and 1/2 days later when I went to the bank to instruct them to return it, I found out that the government had already taken it. If only all their actions had been as efficient as they were with taking back money from a recent widow.
Months went by. We grieved, and we moved forward. I executed his wishes as he had communicated to me while he was still of sound mind. At times, Momma almost felt I was too efficient. But I'm a to-do list kinda gal. I have a list. I work my list. I find comfort in my list. Some shop, I make a list.
Then the world flipped, and we DID NOT MAKE IT FLIP. I have spent days of my life trying to correct an error WE DID NOT CAUSE. The Railroad Retirement Board moved Momma's Medicare from being under them, and under Daddy's claim ID to the administration of the Social Security Administration and under Momma's own ID number. Reminds me of when our sons have projects in school, and suddenly need the purple markers with green board - SORTA NICE TO KNOW IN ADVANCE!
We received no notice of this change. She received no new Medicare card. Nope. What we got was a nice letter from her group plan she has as a retiree from a very large employer. It seems they heard from our government that SHE TERMINATED her Medicare. WHAT??? Also that it was "terminated" on 01-01-2014. HUH??? So why has the government been deducting her Medicare premium from her monthly check - WITHOUT FAIL?? Which I verified by looking at every dang month of her banking. Why has her every claim to this point been processed WITHOUT A PROBLEM? YES - I'M SHOUTING!! Though I didn't at first. I sighed. I thought a couple of calls would clear this up. I told her not to worry. Silly, silly me.
Let me just say, that I was closer to reality when I believed in Santa Claus. At least Daddy had a beard, was round, and had his jolly moments, and Momma, and I have the height of a couple of elves.
Since November 6th, I have been in an endless loop of one entity blaming the next entity for the "mistake". Naturally the first entity blamed was me. Once again, HUH? All I did was give timely notice of my father's death. I might add that it's never easy to call anyone and say that someone you love has died - never. I initiated NO OTHER ACTION. Indeed, my research indicated that it is difficult to terminate your Medicare. As I graciously pointed out to one ignor...I mean clueless, person. (Clueless - still harsh, but my kindness is strained right now.)
Medicare would blame Social Security Administration who would blame Medicare and each one would tell me to call the other one to fix it. This was AFTER I spoke several times to her insurance carrier who at first said they just needed her new claim id. Which I gave them. Then they tell me, no, we can't reinstate her - she had no coverage from 01/01/2014 until 10/01/2014. So I also involved that large employer. They've tried to help. Really, they have. One of the only entities which was willing to give me a real person's name, and phone number to help. But help can only go so far when no one truly understands how the systems work, and therefore how to fix them.
Now look at those dates, again. Anything jump out at you? Like, perhaps, how easy it is to transpose 10/01 and make it 01/01. I began (after numerous phone calls) to figure it out FOR THEM, what THEY had done wrong. Mainly because I was tired of being told that WE had terminated her. Someone hit "termination" instead of transfer/change (which would not have been us), and then instead of the effective date for the CHANGE being 10/01, keyed in 01/01. Voila - my mother appears to have been terminated effective 01/01/2014. Or as I dryly said to a few of the many government employees I've spoken to - wasn't that jumping the gun a bit since Daddy didn't even die until 05/28???
Finally after many (numerous, excessive) calls to the various agencies attempting to find someone to help/take responsibility (one starts to wonder - are they paid by the calls answered, not the calls resolved??), a helpful soul named Leah appeared. She works for Medicare, and after several times of putting me on hold to verify the details, and to discuss with a supervisor, she informed me that yes, it really is Social Security who tells Medicare who can have Medicare, and so Social Security are the ones who will need to fix it. She also tells me to ask to speak to a supervisor so it can be escalated, and that it is best to call our local office.
Fine. I call the local office. What happens? By now it shouldn't be hard to guess. I explain what happened (by now, I can do it in my sleep. I've repeated this story more then the telling of our children's births.) So what do I hear - 'you need to contact Medicare, they would be the ones to fix that.' SERIOUSLY? I just got off the phone with them. THEY SAID TO CALL YOU. May I speak to a supervisor? And this woman actually asked me why, when a supervisor was 'just going to tell you what I JUST told you.' Personally, a badge of honor here. I'm not always the best with holding my temper. Just ask my kids. But I very calmly said, that I was fine with that, I would still like to speak to one. In fact I've stayed calmer then expected through most of this. I am however getting better workouts on the elliptical. There's a certain umph to them....imagine that.
Guess what? Best move I made through the whole ordeal, ignoring her, and speaking to a supervisor. Beverly - lovely woman. Extraordinarily helpful. Even called Momma directly to say how sorry she was that this had happened, and she would get it fixed. AND SHE DID - at least the Social Security Administration part. Which then allowed Medicare to issue a new and correct card. Of course how many calls did I make to get through to the one person who could and would help - unknown, but I have a lot of notes, and I could probably figure it out. I've hugged her in person. Lovely lady.
So we should be at the end of the journey now...right...right...rig....wrong. (And if you're sticking with me through this tale - congrats, and many thanks!)
No, now I get a call from her former employer. That big insurance company, United Health Care, won't add her back with a correct effective date of - ALL DANG YEAR LONG - unless they hear from Medicare to do it.
So I call Medicare - again. I sit on hold - again. I explain - again. I get told I'm wrong - again. Finally, I was told that it would be forwarded to their Advanced Resolution Center. Two business days - they must reply. On the second day they called. The wrong number. Poor Momma - she was not expecting the call, BECAUSE I TOLD THEM TO CALL ME. I gave them my number. They have the proper authorizations on file (that could be another way too long blog about authorizations). Instead they call her, and ask for me. That's so indicative of how this entire experience has gone. Never quite right. It's like the blind date that looks good, but can't carry a conversation to save his life. The insurance company isn't fixing this. Medicare isn't fixing this. And I wonder - WHY IN THE HELL DO I HAVE TO FIX SOMETHING I DIDN'T BREAK??????????
So we're waiting. Still waiting for Prince Charming. He needs to make it right. He needs to give her back the health coverage she NEVER TERMINATED. It needs to be effective as of 01/01/2014. It needs to cover her AS IT SHOULD HAVE. I say, HE, because at this point, I've started emailing her congressman, and her US Senators. Do you blame me??
By now, Momma is beyond frustrated. She's been made to feel that she no longer has health insurance, embarrassed at trying to fill a prescription, and sure that this will never get fixed. She's been talked down to, and spoken to as if she is "stupid" to use one of the many words she's used, a more family friendly word. She's a sharp cookie, but no, she never handled the paperwork of life. Daddy did, and now I do. I can't help but wonder about the elderly person out there who doesn't have a bulldog named Evelyn for a daughter? How messed up is their stuff? How many times are they being told it's their fault, and they assume the government is right, and they aren't? Truly it's not just the government either. Big corporations mess up. They bill you wrong, and it's your problem, not theirs.
I, am equally upset. I have tried to fix this, and instead I have been insulted, turned away if the proper permissions were not in place, and spoken to as if I'm trying to cheat the system. I've been spoken down to, talked over top of, and treated as an imbecile. I've spent hours of my life in the special circle of hell called, On HOLD, listening to the most awful, repetitive music broken up by their even worse, repetitive announcements, and been frustrated by automated operators who don't have the option I need - dial x if WE SCREWED UP YOUR STUFF. Indeed, the Medicare complaints site doesn't list a way to COMPLAIN ABOUT THEM - only others.
So, really, how about treating our senior citizens as the golden members who have helped build this great country and not as a burden? My mother has helped so many. Where the hell is her help...which she paid for?
Well, here's what's happening next. I continue to contact anyone who wants to listen to what has happened to my mother. No one should have to go through this. So guess what - the Insurance Commissioner of the great state of North Carolina, her congressman, her U.S. Senators, Medicare, United Health Care..I'm not done yet. My Momma doesn't deserve to be sleepless over this. They say that the first set of holidays spent without someone you love are particularly hard. A big {sarcastic} thanks to all the above for keeping my focus off of my loss and on to your inability to make a simple correction. Yeah, thanks for that.
Climb Aboard the Double Decker Bus and Gab With Us
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Thursday, September 11, 2014
9-11
I sit here stunned by the silence. The cat, named Elvis in honor of his black velvet fur, is quite content. I have a lovely glass of wine, and a new book beckoning me. All is right with the world. But my thoughts turn to 2001.
I was at my parents. The two of them, the two children, and me. Our sons were the ripe old ages of three, and four. Just yesterday our younger son reminded me that he was too young to have any real memories of that day. Of course, part of that can be attributed to the adults surrounding both children. While Daddy sat in the bedroom, his gold recliner at attention while he watched the nonstop coverage with both an unwillingness to participate, and in inability to look away, Momma, and I traveled the hall. We took turns. One of us would be in the living room, Cartoon Network providing a respite from the horrors down the hall. Children laughed, fought, played, and argued while the world was full of ashes, dust, and fire. News came that a friend had given birth to a healthy, beautiful baby girl. Still the world was aflame. Friends who might be in harms way were located, thankfully safe. We were untouched by tragedy...but none of us were untouched by the tragedy. The uncertainty reaching the remote reaches of North Carolina. The prayers, and the horror, too.
Too often we ignore the evil of the world. Most of us have a desire to embrace the good, and run from the evil. Our sons are now 16, and 17. College is on the very near horizon. As is registering for the draft. Our younger son discusses a military career after college. We have friends whose sons discuss it sooner, and friends who have sons already in the military. 9-11 is such a simple moniker for a day which changed our world.
I believe stories are an integral part of the world. We learn through stories. We should share our stories. Where we were, who we were with, how we felt. Because through remembering, through sharing with the next generation, perhaps, we can make a better world. Eradicating evil. Thank you to all who serve. Thank you to all who sacrifice.
I was at my parents. The two of them, the two children, and me. Our sons were the ripe old ages of three, and four. Just yesterday our younger son reminded me that he was too young to have any real memories of that day. Of course, part of that can be attributed to the adults surrounding both children. While Daddy sat in the bedroom, his gold recliner at attention while he watched the nonstop coverage with both an unwillingness to participate, and in inability to look away, Momma, and I traveled the hall. We took turns. One of us would be in the living room, Cartoon Network providing a respite from the horrors down the hall. Children laughed, fought, played, and argued while the world was full of ashes, dust, and fire. News came that a friend had given birth to a healthy, beautiful baby girl. Still the world was aflame. Friends who might be in harms way were located, thankfully safe. We were untouched by tragedy...but none of us were untouched by the tragedy. The uncertainty reaching the remote reaches of North Carolina. The prayers, and the horror, too.
Too often we ignore the evil of the world. Most of us have a desire to embrace the good, and run from the evil. Our sons are now 16, and 17. College is on the very near horizon. As is registering for the draft. Our younger son discusses a military career after college. We have friends whose sons discuss it sooner, and friends who have sons already in the military. 9-11 is such a simple moniker for a day which changed our world.
I believe stories are an integral part of the world. We learn through stories. We should share our stories. Where we were, who we were with, how we felt. Because through remembering, through sharing with the next generation, perhaps, we can make a better world. Eradicating evil. Thank you to all who serve. Thank you to all who sacrifice.
Monday, August 25, 2014
You Can Depend on Dewey
Anybody out there who believes in those moments? The ones that take your breath away and make you believe completely in a higher power - those are the moments. When your child is born, when someone you love dies, when a rainbow appears, when a song comes on or maybe a music box plays without being wound up - those are the moments. One of my moments happened last week.
I saw the boys through the first day of school, and then I was gone for the week.
Momma, and I had worked out our schedule of what needed to be done, day by day. On the list - visiting her credit union. She had this check in Daddy's name. It was a small check, but anyone who has ever tried to work on an estate knows what a pain some of this is. So just as planned on day three of my visit, we went to the credit union. Our credit union has a long row of tellers, but we had timed it well, and there wasn't a line. This lovely young girl called us down to her spot. And there it was - our sign. An ink pen sat there. Someone had left it behind. Or maybe God did. Because it had my Daddy's name on it. I noticed it first. I pointed to the pen to Momma. As she gasped over seeing Dewey on a pen, I rolled it ever so slightly, and we were even more in awe. For on that pen was also a slogan. The slogan, "You can depend on Dewey". Daddy was a dependable sort. He planned, and he worked hard. Still Momma has wondered if she's been making the right decisions. My brothers, and I have assured her that she is making the right choices. It felt as if a sign was sent from heaven. She could depend on Daddy, and he knew it was all OK.
So today is Daddy's birthday, and I always knew it would be a hard day. Father's Day was hard, today was hard, and I can't say I'm looking forward to ECU's kickoff on Saturday night. It's the first ECU football game that I can remember that I don't have Daddy to tell me I'm wrong about something. I'll miss that even though I still have a husband, and teenagers so it's not like I'll miss out completely on the experience of being wrong.
We still love you, Daddy. Thank you for being dependable. I hope I'm raising sons to be as dependable as you, and Pa Cooper always were. Happy Birthday in heaven. The teller let Momma keep the pen you sent. She still loves you, too.
I saw the boys through the first day of school, and then I was gone for the week.
Momma, and I had worked out our schedule of what needed to be done, day by day. On the list - visiting her credit union. She had this check in Daddy's name. It was a small check, but anyone who has ever tried to work on an estate knows what a pain some of this is. So just as planned on day three of my visit, we went to the credit union. Our credit union has a long row of tellers, but we had timed it well, and there wasn't a line. This lovely young girl called us down to her spot. And there it was - our sign. An ink pen sat there. Someone had left it behind. Or maybe God did. Because it had my Daddy's name on it. I noticed it first. I pointed to the pen to Momma. As she gasped over seeing Dewey on a pen, I rolled it ever so slightly, and we were even more in awe. For on that pen was also a slogan. The slogan, "You can depend on Dewey". Daddy was a dependable sort. He planned, and he worked hard. Still Momma has wondered if she's been making the right decisions. My brothers, and I have assured her that she is making the right choices. It felt as if a sign was sent from heaven. She could depend on Daddy, and he knew it was all OK.
So today is Daddy's birthday, and I always knew it would be a hard day. Father's Day was hard, today was hard, and I can't say I'm looking forward to ECU's kickoff on Saturday night. It's the first ECU football game that I can remember that I don't have Daddy to tell me I'm wrong about something. I'll miss that even though I still have a husband, and teenagers so it's not like I'll miss out completely on the experience of being wrong.
We still love you, Daddy. Thank you for being dependable. I hope I'm raising sons to be as dependable as you, and Pa Cooper always were. Happy Birthday in heaven. The teller let Momma keep the pen you sent. She still loves you, too.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Ch...CH...Changes
My last blog was in June. In July I turned 54, I worked on my father's estate, I pressure washed, I cleaned, I organized, I repaired, I did everything I could do to keep busy. I didn't write. Yet, it's the one thing I kept thinking of as something I wanted to do.
I see stuff that I want to comment on, but I don't. Like how Kate Hudson is designing these wild looking yoga pants. One look at them, and all I could think is - only a Hollywood actress would think any self-respecting women would put THAT on her butt. Even starving would NOT make that look ok on my rear end. And I have to say, there's always a comment I can come up with about the Kardashians.
Also Facebook has the most fascinating view of me based on the "suggestions" it comes up with. Apparently I'm a liberal, gun-toting, overweight, old woman/man with questionable taste in decor. I may resemble some of those characterizations, but it's difficult to cover them all, even for a Southern Momma.
Grief is a process. Yep - it sure is. Hubby has started listening to country music, and one good friend said our life has been like a country music song. I LOVED THAT COMMENT. Anything with a tint of humor is so welcome, and that cracked me up. Need to find me a broken pick up truck...dang it, and the cat don't resemble a hound dog...but other then that, I see her point.
So I want to start back writing. It's so cathartic...ten dollar word, right there. I need to figure out how to get back to writing. There's so much coming up that is just ripe for commentary. Our oldest son will be applying for college. Our younger son wants to work on his Eagle Scout award. Estates need to be settled, and a car needs to be repaired again. Teenagers drive, and drive us crazy in the process. My Momma adjusts to single life.
So bear with me...life's been in the way. But I want to write, and I will.
I see stuff that I want to comment on, but I don't. Like how Kate Hudson is designing these wild looking yoga pants. One look at them, and all I could think is - only a Hollywood actress would think any self-respecting women would put THAT on her butt. Even starving would NOT make that look ok on my rear end. And I have to say, there's always a comment I can come up with about the Kardashians.
Also Facebook has the most fascinating view of me based on the "suggestions" it comes up with. Apparently I'm a liberal, gun-toting, overweight, old woman/man with questionable taste in decor. I may resemble some of those characterizations, but it's difficult to cover them all, even for a Southern Momma.
Grief is a process. Yep - it sure is. Hubby has started listening to country music, and one good friend said our life has been like a country music song. I LOVED THAT COMMENT. Anything with a tint of humor is so welcome, and that cracked me up. Need to find me a broken pick up truck...dang it, and the cat don't resemble a hound dog...but other then that, I see her point.
So I want to start back writing. It's so cathartic...ten dollar word, right there. I need to figure out how to get back to writing. There's so much coming up that is just ripe for commentary. Our oldest son will be applying for college. Our younger son wants to work on his Eagle Scout award. Estates need to be settled, and a car needs to be repaired again. Teenagers drive, and drive us crazy in the process. My Momma adjusts to single life.
So bear with me...life's been in the way. But I want to write, and I will.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
This is for You, Daddy
"This is for you, Daddy." Stevie Nicks at the beginning of "Landslide" on "The Dance" Album
My husband and I are well suited to each other. Momma has often said that she couldn't have designed one better for me. We have a lot in common. This year we have one more thing in common. We've lost our fathers, and this has been the first Father's Day for each of us with no one to call or send a card to. My husband would admit - I was the one sending the cards. It became a point of humor for us. I would say, "You sent a card that said..." And he would grin, and say, "I'm so thoughtful." But cards or no cards, love exists.
"Tell me, where does the spirit go when you die?" "Annabel" - The Duhks
"Tell me, did you sail across the sun?" "Drops of Jupiter" - Train
My Daddy is gone. Momma said yesterday that she kept thinking she would wake up, and he would be there. I told her I knew exactly what she meant. Because I do. I think that puts us in one of those stages. My stage involves Hostess Big Wheels (that's what they were called when Daddy bought them for me almost every day my sixth grade year, and that's what I'm calling them), some Jack and Coke, and digging what's left of my fingernails into my palm to prevent tears. A friend once told me that we write to learn about ourselves. I've learned a lot this past year, but not written a lot. Another friend reminded me that the shower is a great place to sob. I am so very clean - so is the shower stall.
"Up all night, I could not sleep. The whiskey that I drank was cheap." "South City Midnight Lady" - The Doobie Brothers
"And I confess that I'm only holding on by a thin, thin thread." "Sad" - Maroon 5
"Life goes on. It gets so heavy. The wheel breaks the butterfly." "Paradise" - Coldplay
I wonder if I've been kind enough to others when they've experienced grief. This has been such a constant presence in my life this last year. We've not only lost our fathers, but my mother-in-law passed away, a favorite uncle, and a favorite aunt, a loved cousin, even our beloved dog. Our older son can actually write in his upcoming college applications that he lost three grandparents during his junior year of high school. What a dubious distinction. I will say it provides a certain perspective on the other stuff like needing a new transmission in a 2014 vehicle, the broken sprinkler head that was pointing towards the golf course flooding the green, the broken outside water faucet that was dripping for who knows how long (can't wait to see the water bill), the kid who ignored my explanation of how a car battery can be drained resulting in his first lesson involving jumper cables, poison ivy, bronchitis, flu, and the infamous 'I stepped on a snake' incident resulting in a new door mat - one not black and not so easily blendable with a black snake. When you've spent so much time dressing in black, hugging people you love, hugging people you don't remember or never knew, the other stuff just becomes adventures to laugh at. Sometimes the hugs are adventures, too. May I suggest that some people should keep their hands in reasonable places...
"I miss the sounds of Tennessee. I blink and while my eyes are closed, they both have gone away." "House on the Lake" - Rosanne Cash
Some people are so kind it's almost overwhelming. Others are so clueless that your choices are to be amused or offended. I opted for amused, with only an occasional sprinkle of indignation. So I have even more stories then just the snake one, like the ex-girlfriend who showed up to my father-in-law's visitation flirting with hubby or the ex-boyfriend who tracked down my number, and called me. Which made hubby and I even-steven on the exes front - thank goodness - no need to inflate the man's ego. But really, people, funerals are NOT Eharmony...or a high school reunion. Perhaps you could pick another time to decide we were catches after all.
There's the tendency to question God, and his existence in all of this. That's not my way. I long ago gave up even attempting to understand. I don't get quantum physics, I can't comprehend how to engineer a part, and I for dang sure ain't 'bout to try to rebuild an engine so why should I know all the answers to God's universe. I get that. I'm also good with counting blessings. I had my Daddy for years longer then many people I know had their loved ones, and we were able to be at a good place when he passed from this life to life eternal. That's a gift not all receive though it was wrapped in the sideways paper of dementia.
"Think about it. There must be a higher love. Down in the heart or hidden in the stars above." "Higher Love" - Steve Winwood
Now, I have to say, Daddy was not some perfection of a man. Like all of us, you got the good with the bad. The man had a temper, I mean he could really lay it on. And if he thought he was right, well, there ain't no way that YOU were right. He went almost a year with out speaking to me once because he thought I had made the wrong job choice. But I have that stubborn streak, too. Eventually he was proud when I made my way in a large company just as I wanted to do. I think he enjoyed my spirit, as long as I never forgot to say ma'am or sir along the way. Sometimes two people are too much alike...but there are lessons in all of that, too. Lessons I try to remember raising our teenagers - one is a little more like me, the other one a little more like Hubby. Makes life more interesting as long as we remember the love, and forgiveness.
"Children get older. I'm getting older, too." "Landslide" - Fleetwood Mac
"Mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? I don't know." "Landslide" - Fleetwood Mac
The night of Daddy's visitation one of my cousins told me a story I had never heard. Daddy came from a large family. Such a large family means a large range in ages of the cousins, and this cousin remembered Daddy as a young man back from the Korean War. He told me that our grandmother said Daddy would wake up with what they called "night terrors" for months after he returned. I am at an age now that I can look back at how it must have been for my Daddy, not too much older then my sons, and be so impressed by him. This was a man who answered his country, did his duty, came back home, worked full time at night on the railroad while he attended East Carolina College during the day, and spent countless hours helping charities. He never spoke of Korea until dementia came calling other then to tell us that "M.A.S.H." was NOT the way it was. Only then did we find out that he rode trains laying down gunfire to evacuate the dead, and wounded. He led a life, life did not lead him, and there's a lesson in that also. Too much is handed to so many of us. He expected nothing to be handed to him. He became a college graduate. He became Master of his Masonic lodge, president of his Shrine club chapter, and if you didn't know that he was an ECU Pirate then you obviously had never spoken to him for more then two minutes, and certainly never spoke to him during football season. Even as he lay on his deathbed, we played an ECU football game, and he knew it was his Pirates. I could even con him into leaving his nasal cannula in place by telling him that we would beat UNC if he left it alone.
Daddy passed away on May 28. For years, Momma said it would be terrible if someone died and there was an East Carolina University game because none of us would come. Daddy died when there were no active sports going on for ECU. I think he planned that. But still we flew our flags and magnets. His last surviving sister realized what we were doing, and insisted someone put them on her Cadillac, and one of my cousins flew to her car, got them out of her trunk and put them on. No one wanted to disobey her. The last one, the last one of nine siblings. How hard it is to survive.
"We're the Purple and Gold. We are the PIRATES OF ECU." EC Victory Fight Song
The night of Daddy's visitation we had one of those DVD's going. All the good funeral homes do them these days. You send pictures, they set them up to loop through, maybe add some music. Daddy loved music. We all love music. Somehow it felt right that we asked for three songs to be set to the pictures on the DVD. The three songs were, "Sugar Lips" by Al Hirt, "Whipped Cream" by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, and the ECU Fight Song. Nothing else would have felt as right. He loved life, and he saw it in so many ways - war, and peace. He deserved music that reflected his love of life.
Our sons have been a wonder through it all. They have watched their parents grieve, and shown compassion. I will never forget the touch of our sixteen year old's hand on my back as I started a strangled sob walking in the funeral home or the introverted seventeen year old walking up to me, and telling me that he would stay beside me until I told him he wasn't needed.
"No, this child will be gifted with love, with patience, and with faith." "Wonder" - Natalie Merchant
In the bottom of Daddy's jewelry box was an id bracelet. One that had my name on it and was made for me at the North Carolina State Fair when I was a little girl. Long after I stopped wearing it, and discarded it, he kept it. That's how love is - we keep it. We always keep it.
Somehow in grief, we each make our way. We find love. We find faith. We find compassion. Somehow we heal. Each scar makes a stronger place for faith, and love to take root.
"Take this love, and take it down." "Landslide" - Fleetwood Mac
"So I will look for you between the grooves of songs we sing." "The World Unseen" - Rosanne Cash
"Are ye healed?" "Did Ye Get Healed" by Van Morrison
Each time one of us shares love, and compassion, each time one of us turns to God, we are healed. - me
My husband and I are well suited to each other. Momma has often said that she couldn't have designed one better for me. We have a lot in common. This year we have one more thing in common. We've lost our fathers, and this has been the first Father's Day for each of us with no one to call or send a card to. My husband would admit - I was the one sending the cards. It became a point of humor for us. I would say, "You sent a card that said..." And he would grin, and say, "I'm so thoughtful." But cards or no cards, love exists.
"Tell me, where does the spirit go when you die?" "Annabel" - The Duhks
"Tell me, did you sail across the sun?" "Drops of Jupiter" - Train
My Daddy is gone. Momma said yesterday that she kept thinking she would wake up, and he would be there. I told her I knew exactly what she meant. Because I do. I think that puts us in one of those stages. My stage involves Hostess Big Wheels (that's what they were called when Daddy bought them for me almost every day my sixth grade year, and that's what I'm calling them), some Jack and Coke, and digging what's left of my fingernails into my palm to prevent tears. A friend once told me that we write to learn about ourselves. I've learned a lot this past year, but not written a lot. Another friend reminded me that the shower is a great place to sob. I am so very clean - so is the shower stall.
"Up all night, I could not sleep. The whiskey that I drank was cheap." "South City Midnight Lady" - The Doobie Brothers
"And I confess that I'm only holding on by a thin, thin thread." "Sad" - Maroon 5
"Life goes on. It gets so heavy. The wheel breaks the butterfly." "Paradise" - Coldplay
I wonder if I've been kind enough to others when they've experienced grief. This has been such a constant presence in my life this last year. We've not only lost our fathers, but my mother-in-law passed away, a favorite uncle, and a favorite aunt, a loved cousin, even our beloved dog. Our older son can actually write in his upcoming college applications that he lost three grandparents during his junior year of high school. What a dubious distinction. I will say it provides a certain perspective on the other stuff like needing a new transmission in a 2014 vehicle, the broken sprinkler head that was pointing towards the golf course flooding the green, the broken outside water faucet that was dripping for who knows how long (can't wait to see the water bill), the kid who ignored my explanation of how a car battery can be drained resulting in his first lesson involving jumper cables, poison ivy, bronchitis, flu, and the infamous 'I stepped on a snake' incident resulting in a new door mat - one not black and not so easily blendable with a black snake. When you've spent so much time dressing in black, hugging people you love, hugging people you don't remember or never knew, the other stuff just becomes adventures to laugh at. Sometimes the hugs are adventures, too. May I suggest that some people should keep their hands in reasonable places...
"I miss the sounds of Tennessee. I blink and while my eyes are closed, they both have gone away." "House on the Lake" - Rosanne Cash
Some people are so kind it's almost overwhelming. Others are so clueless that your choices are to be amused or offended. I opted for amused, with only an occasional sprinkle of indignation. So I have even more stories then just the snake one, like the ex-girlfriend who showed up to my father-in-law's visitation flirting with hubby or the ex-boyfriend who tracked down my number, and called me. Which made hubby and I even-steven on the exes front - thank goodness - no need to inflate the man's ego. But really, people, funerals are NOT Eharmony...or a high school reunion. Perhaps you could pick another time to decide we were catches after all.
There's the tendency to question God, and his existence in all of this. That's not my way. I long ago gave up even attempting to understand. I don't get quantum physics, I can't comprehend how to engineer a part, and I for dang sure ain't 'bout to try to rebuild an engine so why should I know all the answers to God's universe. I get that. I'm also good with counting blessings. I had my Daddy for years longer then many people I know had their loved ones, and we were able to be at a good place when he passed from this life to life eternal. That's a gift not all receive though it was wrapped in the sideways paper of dementia.
"Think about it. There must be a higher love. Down in the heart or hidden in the stars above." "Higher Love" - Steve Winwood
Now, I have to say, Daddy was not some perfection of a man. Like all of us, you got the good with the bad. The man had a temper, I mean he could really lay it on. And if he thought he was right, well, there ain't no way that YOU were right. He went almost a year with out speaking to me once because he thought I had made the wrong job choice. But I have that stubborn streak, too. Eventually he was proud when I made my way in a large company just as I wanted to do. I think he enjoyed my spirit, as long as I never forgot to say ma'am or sir along the way. Sometimes two people are too much alike...but there are lessons in all of that, too. Lessons I try to remember raising our teenagers - one is a little more like me, the other one a little more like Hubby. Makes life more interesting as long as we remember the love, and forgiveness.
"Children get older. I'm getting older, too." "Landslide" - Fleetwood Mac
"Mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? I don't know." "Landslide" - Fleetwood Mac
The night of Daddy's visitation one of my cousins told me a story I had never heard. Daddy came from a large family. Such a large family means a large range in ages of the cousins, and this cousin remembered Daddy as a young man back from the Korean War. He told me that our grandmother said Daddy would wake up with what they called "night terrors" for months after he returned. I am at an age now that I can look back at how it must have been for my Daddy, not too much older then my sons, and be so impressed by him. This was a man who answered his country, did his duty, came back home, worked full time at night on the railroad while he attended East Carolina College during the day, and spent countless hours helping charities. He never spoke of Korea until dementia came calling other then to tell us that "M.A.S.H." was NOT the way it was. Only then did we find out that he rode trains laying down gunfire to evacuate the dead, and wounded. He led a life, life did not lead him, and there's a lesson in that also. Too much is handed to so many of us. He expected nothing to be handed to him. He became a college graduate. He became Master of his Masonic lodge, president of his Shrine club chapter, and if you didn't know that he was an ECU Pirate then you obviously had never spoken to him for more then two minutes, and certainly never spoke to him during football season. Even as he lay on his deathbed, we played an ECU football game, and he knew it was his Pirates. I could even con him into leaving his nasal cannula in place by telling him that we would beat UNC if he left it alone.
Daddy passed away on May 28. For years, Momma said it would be terrible if someone died and there was an East Carolina University game because none of us would come. Daddy died when there were no active sports going on for ECU. I think he planned that. But still we flew our flags and magnets. His last surviving sister realized what we were doing, and insisted someone put them on her Cadillac, and one of my cousins flew to her car, got them out of her trunk and put them on. No one wanted to disobey her. The last one, the last one of nine siblings. How hard it is to survive.
"We're the Purple and Gold. We are the PIRATES OF ECU." EC Victory Fight Song
The night of Daddy's visitation we had one of those DVD's going. All the good funeral homes do them these days. You send pictures, they set them up to loop through, maybe add some music. Daddy loved music. We all love music. Somehow it felt right that we asked for three songs to be set to the pictures on the DVD. The three songs were, "Sugar Lips" by Al Hirt, "Whipped Cream" by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, and the ECU Fight Song. Nothing else would have felt as right. He loved life, and he saw it in so many ways - war, and peace. He deserved music that reflected his love of life.
Our sons have been a wonder through it all. They have watched their parents grieve, and shown compassion. I will never forget the touch of our sixteen year old's hand on my back as I started a strangled sob walking in the funeral home or the introverted seventeen year old walking up to me, and telling me that he would stay beside me until I told him he wasn't needed.
"No, this child will be gifted with love, with patience, and with faith." "Wonder" - Natalie Merchant
In the bottom of Daddy's jewelry box was an id bracelet. One that had my name on it and was made for me at the North Carolina State Fair when I was a little girl. Long after I stopped wearing it, and discarded it, he kept it. That's how love is - we keep it. We always keep it.
Somehow in grief, we each make our way. We find love. We find faith. We find compassion. Somehow we heal. Each scar makes a stronger place for faith, and love to take root.
"Take this love, and take it down." "Landslide" - Fleetwood Mac
"So I will look for you between the grooves of songs we sing." "The World Unseen" - Rosanne Cash
"Are ye healed?" "Did Ye Get Healed" by Van Morrison
Each time one of us shares love, and compassion, each time one of us turns to God, we are healed. - me
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