Ciao for now

I've had difficulty releasing this post but I think it's time:

In the past I have written about people that I have dealt with in a funeral home setting who were going through the throes of trying to understand a suicide. I've expressed the opinion, vaguely, that this type of death could somewhat be understood because the person or persons who committed this "act" must have been in a terrific amount of pain, either physically or emotionally, or both of these feelings somehow combined. I am still of the opinion that in order to take your own life one must be in dire straits, however until recently I was never literally part of the actual event, thereby not truly able to understand the emotions of the people left behind.

Several Monday mornings ago however, I was baptised and was given the unfortunate opportunity to experience a suicide from another perspective. I didn't counsel a virtual stranger who walked through my door at an appointed time to assist in taking care of their dead loved one; a family members spouse took his life early that Monday morning after a long battle with cancer (which by the way he had won) who was on his way to full recovery and within thirty minutes of his discovery I was contacted. I knew he had been ill, and also knew he would recover so that mornings events were the farthest thing from mine or anyone else's mind. Within twenty minutes I had flight arrangements and was on my way to assist as best I could. The next few days were like a roller coaster almost out of control.

Apparently when he was initially deemed terminal the thoughts of ending his life had arisen within him, were shared as well as understood yet were never acted upon; the decision was made to go ahead and attempt to beat the disease, and as I mentioned earlier, he had. Quite honestly if he had still been classified as terminal, one could understand his reasoning and although it would have still been painful, acceptance would have been much, much easier. No note or letter was left behind so there is no way of ever knowing the true "why" behind this. It is very simple and easy to say "it's not your fault", "you can't beat yourself up over this" and the like but in essence the people left behind feel inadequate, feel as though they have been dumped, perhaps even somewhat responsible.

Some may say too bad, it was his life and his choice, just deal with it while others, including myself, feel that this particular instance was a very selfish act, but let me explain myself before you end this read. I truly am of the belief that we should be in total control of our lives and have the right to end it at will, however we also have a responsibility to those we leave behind. When someone loves another, explanations are not only expected, I believe they are deserved. Trying not to speak ill of the dead, I don't blame this man for anything he did; I can't say whether he should or shouldn't have done what he did and I realize that he had to be utterly desperate for a way out, a fixative measure. In summation I guess I have to feel lucky that I have never felt the pain I feel caused this.

I still stand firm however, on the feeling that it was his right, but I also feel it was his obligation to his wife, the one he had the contract with, the one he loved and who loved him in return to at the very least leave some sort of clue as to why he felt that this was the only means available to him. You see it may have solved his problems, but by doing so he has created an entire barrel of new ones for someone else: physically, emotionally as well as monetarily. I guess this stance could be construed as selfish as well but we all have some sort of responsibility to the people we interact with and even though she would have tried to help him with a different means, I think a simple explanation would have sufficed.

No More, anything

The child was born one springlike morn, her parents hearts stood still
angelic in her every form, expectations she did fulfill
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They took her home, her life began, they nurtured, loved and swore
she was the girl they waited for, their wants there were no more
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Ribbons, bows, and frilly lace festooned the sweet young thing
much like a precious china doll, her graces they did sing

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When school began, she quickly became, a star pupil in her class
according to each grades counselor, her mates she did surpass
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By adolescence the girl had not felt, any love toward man or boy
yet did not bare her deepest sense, and used Jim as her decoy

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When old enough, enlisted she, to serve and see the world
she was so strong yet oh so tired and her secret was unfurled
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"Don't ask, don't tell" had not been coined, although it didn't matter
she would not tell if you had asked but women she would flatter

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Discharge papers boldly showed, due to "homosexuality admission"
she often wished it was not true, but by god she was no magician
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I think her family tried to say, they felt no difference
but through it all the girl could see, they wished she had a prince

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By now her head was swirling with, some pretty nasty thoughts
involved were doctors, lawyers, cops and even a few courts
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What had become of the precious child they once knew she had been
to her it was a "normal" life but to many her existence a sin

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Many years passed and she could not bear, to live outside the loop
in time she had been excluded from, the family, the whole group
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At last her strength it did return, although she was weaker than ever
it was now the time to say goodbye, to finalize the sever

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One by one she called them up and explained she had no choice
she wanted them to know she cared, and hoped they would rejoice
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She was going far away, and doubted she'd ever be back
she thanked them all for all they'd done, to help her ease the slack

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Perhaps sarcastic, perhaps the truth, she had finally found her door
no longer would she have to explain, to no one, not anymore
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Her house was spotless, fore to aft, all personal hints destroyed
she laid the gun unto her head and squeezed, it was deployed

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And now they cry for her loss, yet while alive she was their thorn
and all they ever really did was make her feel forlorn
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One cannot help but think it a shame, to lose a life so young
but also see the gun as it was, her rocket, her taxi, her pung

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No one ever can explain, why any ones choice would be such
but we must accept, the choice is theirs, an eternal, irreversible crutch

***I wish there was a way for her to know that her family truly loved her, respected her, may not have always agreed with her, and now wish.....they could have been her crutch. If anyone should have left it should have been them.

Really, he's dead? We can Help!

We've all heard the expression "Ambulance Chasers" which most often refers to attorneys (rightly or wrong) who follow an injured party to determine whether or not their services can be of use; usually in a wrongful injury, death or something along those lines. If any of you have seen the 1992 movie "My cousin Vinnie" which starred Joe Pesci, I'm sure you remember his character, Vincent Gambini, who in the middle of a bar room scene asks an obviously injured man wearing a neck brace where he hurt his neck; was it at home, on the job, maybe at someone else's house? When the man responded that it was no ones fault, Vincent Gambini replied, "too bad". Although satirical, this was an example of how "Ambulance Chasers" are portrayed.

In the past ten days since my father has passed I have come to coin a phrase of my own; "Coffin Chasers". Yes, "Coffin Chasers". Let me explain myself a bit. It all began innocently enough the day of my fathers wake when a realtor who will remain nameless, visited the funeral home to pay her respects. This realtor had sold my father his home nearly six years ago and had never had any contact with him since; they were not friends. I also used this realtor when I purchased my home and have spoken to her perhaps 3 times in the last 9 years, very briefly; we're not friends either. When I first saw her I thought it was extremely nice of her to visit.

About three days later, just after his burial I received a solicitation, a phone call from a local attorney, again not a friend, advising me that I needed to find my fathers will and bring it to her and she would take care of everything from there. At the time I thought it very odd that she was calling me advising me what I needed to do, especially since I had not asked for her help. As the days progressed I received a letter from an unknown attorney again advising me that their firm would be happy to assist in the probate and distribution process; all I needed to do was call the number on the business card provided. So far this doesn't sound too bad, I know. I have been asked by other people who have no right in my opinion to even broach the subject, what my intentions are with certain property, you see they would "like to invest". Another gentleman, using the term lightly, has advised me that before I sell anything, a friend of his would like to speak to me first and we can avoid paying a realtor. Others have told me what I need to do, or who I need to give the contents of his home to, I've gotten sympathy cards from bankers I don't even know....every one of these "helpful", opportunistic people have simply taken it upon themselves to let me know what I need to do and have no right in my book to even stick their noses in. I can't help but read their thoughts of possible gain from my fathers death and would really like to spit at them.

Now I realize that right now I'm a little sensitive when it comes to this matter, and have to admit that I can be very cynical at times, but I can't see this type of behavior. It's all communicated under the guise that they are trying to help and would be welcomed...IF I HAD ASKED! I try to think of it in reverse and wonder how it would be accepted or what kind of a shit I would be if I visited or wrote families that I deal with and asked them these same questions or gave them this same advice. I have had experience in sales and I know I'm now a "prospect", simply by virtue of an obituary, but a line needs to be drawn defining when and how this contact should be allowed.

In conclusion, if any of these people have done what they have simply out of concern or respect I apologize, but if they haven't....they'll just have to read between the lines of the three upheld fingers of my right hand.

Mr. Dash

I thought accepting his decision was hard? That was nothing compared to accepting his departure. My father passed away late last week after a long battle with a disease that he had once beaten. If cancer had a will, a brain, I'd say fucking cancer sucks, it strikes with no regard to who you are, what you do, and gives not a single shit what kind of pain it causes or the aftermath it leaves.
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The only way I can console myself is knowing that he is no longer in pain; he actually wanted to die, he was tired, finished, ready. I loved him, still do, we all do and always will but he won't be around anymore and it hurts bad. I guess some people might think that because I see this every day that it has to be easy for me, or easier; I'm not sure if that's true, I don't think it is.
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One of my colleagues assisted in directing his funeral and spoke to the crowd in the cemetery after the committal service and recited a poem by Linda Ellis. I had heard it before but to hear it at that moment helped us all so much. I want to thank the poet, Linda Ellis and I want to thank Doris for these words. Please read this:

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The Dash, A poem by Linda Ellis

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I read of a man who stood to speak

At the funeral of a friend

He referred to the dates on her tombstone

From the beginning to the end
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He noted that first came her date of her birth

And spoke the following date with tears,

But he said what mattered most of all

Was the dash between those years
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For that dash represents all the time

That she spent alive on earth.

And now only those who loved her

Know what that little line is worth.
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For it matters not how much we own;

The cars, the house, the cash,

What matters is how we live and love

And how we spend our dash.
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So think about this long and hard.

Are there things you’d like to change?

For you never know how much time is left,

That can still be rearranged.
..

If we could just slow down enough

To consider what’s true and real

And always try to understand

The way other people feel.
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And be less quick to anger,

And show appreciation more

And love the people in our lives

Like we’ve never loved before.
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If we treat each other with respect,

And more often wear a smile

Remembering that this special dash

Might only last a little while.
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So, when your eulogy is being read

With your life’s actions to rehash

Would you be proud of the things they say

About how you spent your dash?

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My fathers dash was wonderful and will always be remembered as such. These simple words are not only conforting but are very true indeed. Once again, I want to thank both of you ladies for sharing this with me and the rest of the world. Thank You so much for the solace you gave us.

His Choice

Very rarely do I speak of anyone other than others; today however is my day, about my life, really about my fathers life.

Recently I have had to accept a decision which I probably could have swayed if I followed my selfish heart. This decision was hard to accept, I think maybe the hardest in my life, but I stress "my" life. As some of you may know, or have gotten the gist from other posts I've written, my father is ill. Ill to the extent where he was deemed terminal many months ago.

For the longest time I've been aware of this, my siblings, their families, most of his friends also know of his situation yet he was bearing the disease quite well. For the past 3 maybe 6 weeks he has been slipping faster than anyone has expected, certainly his family.
His last hospital stay was the first time his "DNR" was posted for me to see, for all to see. I knew his wishes and was not really shocked by his request; I knew it had been in place for many years but to actually see it hanging on his door was difficult to say the least.

He remained in the hospital for nine days and underwent several batteries of tests, some results were hopeful while others showed a different picture, a truer picture; he is slowly dieing before my eyes and there is nothing that I can do to stop it. Dad has good days and bad days and so-so days and horrible days; perhaps days is the incorrect description since these days continuously vary by the hour. My biggest concern at this point is that he will feel no pain.

He was at a strange stage the past week although one I understood entirely. I would call it hopelessly hopeful. He knows he's terminal, but........he also is still off and on grabbing at straws, not always, but definitely during his good hours. During the last hospital stay he was basically "told" by a physician that a certain procedure was their next line of defense; it was going to be performed. My father is of the generation who trust in doctors implicitly and rarely asks questions, he follows their orders to the letter.

When he was discharged and I got him home it was evident that his hospital stay had done nothing for him yet I myself was still as hopeful of the upcoming procedure as was he. My brother and sister in law arrived that day and spent the weekend with him caring for his every need; he loved seeing them and they were a tremendous help.

Once at home I did some research on the mentioned procedure and found what I thought I would. It is not a cure, which I expected, and as any other procedure or medication for that matter, there were possible adverse side affects. I was with him when he was told it was what they were going to do and none of this was mentioned to him other than possible nausea. I felt he deserved to know what I had read and also deserved to know that this was not something he had to do unless he wanted to. I was very hesitant about telling him this because under all of it I was hoping he'd still give it a shot.

The past few days have been filled with his agreement as well as disagreement of the procedure, usually depending on how he felt at the moment. Last night, I was told by a third party that he had made the final decision not to go through with it. Of course I verified this with dad and yes it is true, he has decided against any further treatment; he's tired, wants no more pain, no surgeries, he's "ready to go". Exactly what this means in respect to time I have no clue, I don't think anyone can tell us that. As much as I understand and respect his choice I still want to ask him to try it but I can't, I won't; I'm the selfish one, I want him to stay longer, but I'm not the one in pain, not the one who's been undergoing the stress and certainly not the one who should decide for him.

So...I have to accept his decision...that's hard.