Dirty Laundry
New learning happens almost every day, and some of it I have to repeat several times before I really understand or know it. There are things that still surprise me, things that I really had no idea to expect in such a situation. But then again, who expects one very healthy husband to suddenly die?
Everyone’s challenges and barriers are not the same when the one we love dies. Dying happens in all kinds of ways and eventually to all of us. Yet, some of what happens after death are things we do not expect or know until it is in front of us. What is a right choice for me is not the same right choice for someone else.
Rule Book 2.0: If some things are in place, like a will and signed beneficiary documents, and most things have been arranged financially and legally, probate may or may not be necessary. If there is property or a business, and in my case a law firm, probate will be necessary to tie up loose ends. I could wait up to three years, I think, to initiate probate. But following my gut, and after talking to several people who are experts in this area who could advise me on my particular situation, I am moving forward with probate.
I highly recommend talking to experts and not taking on learning curves that are unnecessary while experiencing intense grief. The benefits of having an expert who is both capable and compassionate manage the situation and give me small bite sized tasks to complete puts me in a position of agency but not overwhelm. Probate, in my situation, is a fairly simple and straightforward task. It is something to take off my plate, and that is something.
There are just so many actions that are legal, financial, physical, and emotional that overwhelm is inevitable. It would be so easy to turn a blind eye, and let it all just pile up and rot there. Except, some things, if left untended, will actually not rot but grow into more complicated monsters. I am grateful for the nudges and support to chip away at the list of things that I must do and that can be done.
Broken Systems 2.0: It is fascinating that Edmond’s autopsy report is public record, and that other financial and legal entities receive notice that he is dead. And yet, Hays County, the county where we live and he died, sent him a jury summons two days ago. Again, it seems that our systems are broken. So many systems track us and follow us based on our purchasing power and ability to serve the state. Many systems, retail and otherwise, are technologically creepy, nearly omnipotent, in terms of knowing our whereabouts and preferences. But, other systems certainly lag behind.
It is so exhausting to have to keep telling these entities that often do not have a face or name or human component that he is dead. He is not alive, and you cannot have one more bit of his time. Neither can I. There is likely not a practical, timely remedy for this brokenness in our systems.
Edmond won’t respond to the jury summons, and he won’t show up to serve. I mean, he would have. He was an attorney who worked for working people whose rights were disregarded in various ways. He respected the system even with all of its flaws.
Single Parenting: I know about having an agenda, a few necessary actions, several possible but not critical tasks, and also space in the day for all the unexpected important actions that show up. Leaving space for the flow of life despite my agenda is the way of motherhood. There are always things that must suddenly be done and take the place of the possibles and fill in the space we left.
Every day last week there were unexpected events. I called on help, and received it. I am grateful that when I had a full day of clients my oldest son took my younger son to the doctor, and a friend picked up his prescription. Still, holding space for it all pushed me beyond my capacity. It was unavoidable. It was more than I could hold. Some days, some weeks are just like that.
It was a deeper layer of the reality of being a single parent. There was not an ex-spouse/another parent who could have stepped in. Ultimately, it is only me who is responsible for my children. Yes, I have amazing adult children, friends, and family who can show up and help. But, I am the coordinator of their care. It was a hard truth to take in, even though I knew I could get the help we needed and I did. It is not the same as having Edmond here. He showed up at every annual physical for our children, took our kids to the doctor when they were sick when there was an occasion that I could not, and often came even when I could be there.
On the really hard days, doing laundry sometimes feels really good, purposeful, and something I can complete. I needed another clothes basket. I knew where one was, but I had not touched it since I filled it with Edmond's clothes that he had left draped over his valet chair in the days before his death. Some were clean, some were in-between, and some were dirty and should most definitely have been in the washing machine. After he died, and the house was being cleaned, I had scooped them all up and put them in the nearest basket to save them. I wanted to preserve the last bit of tangible evidence of his existence. At the time, I could not bear to clean them or put them away. Those clothes were the most recent items that lived upon his body. They have been stored in the basket in my old office/studio, the space Edmond used for meditation every morning for the last few years.
I have walked into that space many times. I have lifted some of the clothing, smelled it, and put it back. I have not had the stomach to decide what to do about it. I had not even been able to really sort through it, to see what shirts, shorts, pants, and workout clothes were in the basket.
And, I still cannot remember what he was wearing that day. I saw him in the morning ready for his run. I saw him again around eleven when he came home from the office to get his computer he left behind. But, I still cannot remember what he was wearing. I thought he might have been wearing a pair of Prana shorts I had recently bought him. I really love those shorts, the way the fabric texture ran more horizontal. It was subtle, and I love them. I found those in the basket. Every t-shirt or button down I can recall, I have found in his closet or that basket. I cannot figure out what is missing.
I burned what I was wearing that day. I never wore it again and will never wear that dress again.
It feels so odd to not know what he was wearing the day he died. When I asked, I was told I could not have his clothing. His shirt, at least, was destroyed or ripped when EMS tried to revive him. I cannot remember, but I think there was some reason they or the coroner or the funeral home could not give me his clothes. Maybe, it was part of the autopsy or investigation into his death, or it was a biohazard. I really do not remember what I was told, only that I accepted the answer of no to my request for his clothes. I only know I could not and do not have his clothing that he was wearing when he died. There is a reason, certainly a good reason, and it is just things, his things, the last things that held and clung to his beautiful body. I am not angry, but it does roll around in my head.
What were you wearing that day, Sweet Man? I wish like hell I could remember. I am not upset with myself for not remembering. I know that we made time for each other, even the few minutes when you came back for your computer. We shared time, a few minutes and sentences, a kiss. We said our I love you’s. Maybe I will never realize what shirt or shorts or pants are missing from your closet. I have zero inclination to empty your drawers, to give anything away whatsoever, unless it is a comfort to one of our children. I love that your things fill our space. It is not you, but it is a comfort to me. I wear your shirts sometimes, so does Ellie. We love you. We miss you.
I needed another laundry basket and was already a puddle, and so I cried and smelled the clothes in the basket. Some of his scent still lingered on a few articles of clothing. I hung up the clean, washed the extremely dirty, and saved some of the in-between and somewhat dirty laundry. Gathering what I could not bring myself to wash or put away, I put this pile of his his clothes in his spot of our bed. I sleep next to his dirty laundry now.
We returned from Port Aransas yesterday, and coming home to not you was really hard. Hell, leaving for the trip without you was hard. Beginnings and endings without you just evoke such pain. Somehow, I went to the grocery to grab steaks, potatoes, and asparagus. Ellie came with me, and helped me choose the right steaks. She remembered what you taught her on those grocery trips. I rely on our kids a lot for the details that my mind cannot hold or recall. I am grateful that you spent that kind of time with them. I pulled up the directions on my phone that you gave me the time I wanted to make you steak for your birthday. I grilled and had a drink on the deck like we used to do together after we returned from a trip. Later in the night, I was glad to snuggle up next to the pile of clothes I have not washed yet. Maybe I will never wash them. Thank you for coming into my dreams; I really needed that time with you. Thank you for the part at the mailbox. I realized shortly after fully waking this morning, it was a reminder to pay those two bills. I feel how we are still doing some of this together in a different way. Before I opened my eyes, I felt a gentle tingle over my skin. Eyes closed, with a smile on my face, I felt you dancing about our room, covering me in your Light-Love. Thank you. I miss you. I love you.