(no subject)
Things have been pretty fucked up. I used to write out journal posts in my head all the time, and then I slowly stopped remembering to write them, or got too lazy to go do it. But it has been a quiet shitstorm. I'm not as upset all the time as I was at first, and it's now mostly easy to forget about. I mean, I didn't see or talk to him every day or even often - probably once or twice a month in the past few years, even less last year. He just got more off the wall and into more trouble and I didn't feel like I could deal with it. At the very beginning of 2014 he had checked himself into the hospital and ended up in the psych unit. He said he only went in because of a bad reaction to percoset he had for a dental procedure. They got him on some medication to control his bipolar disorder and he was gonna go to AA again and take care of himself and it was looking up a lot. I was in the middle of writing/sending in a blog post about dealing with a mentally ill family member that I was able to end positively with the information that my own family member had gotten help. Oh well.
Then he got a DUI and I pulled away more again and didn't see him for a few months. He'd call and say crazy things, and Barb would come by the library or call me over and over with all kinds of things - could I check on him sort of stuff (my response always "he's an adult who can take care of himself and neither I nor you can be responsible for him or his actions", I wish I'd done it now of course). I visited in June or something after we had made plans, around 12 or 1, to go to lunch, and he wasn't ready and didn't remember and had clearly been sleeping or something. We had a huge yelling fight and I told him I was the only person who was still willing to help him. Then I mowed his lawn, which took goddamn forever and the backyard is a big hill so it wasn't really a fun time, but I got it done. I'd never used a powered lawn mower before so I didn't know you squeeze the handle to get it to self propel. My full body weight wasn't enough to push it across some parts of his yard, and I was having a hell of a time until my dad came over kind of laughing and showed me how to do it (probably 30 minutes later, too!). I hate that that's probably the last good memory I have of my dad. We didn't make it to lunch, so we didn't really get to talk. I hate to think of how he must have been feeling, and what he must've been doing, and what my yelled words must have meant at that point. I was frustrated because I knew he had a court date later that week and no ride as he wasn't talking to Barb again, and he hadn't told me about the DUI at all let alone the court date. I told him I would drive him if he wanted me to, but then didn't follow up and he didn't call to ask.
I think that was before my birthday, when I saw him well for the last time. That was a pretty good time, at least, though we didn't go out to dinner or anything with him. John and I went over and he and Barb were there and he gave me a way too expensive watch, which Barb pointed out matched his watch. I did need and had been asking to have my prior watch fixed, as the seal failed and it kept getting cloudy. My dad had gotten it for me as a graduation present. But John had just given me a new watch for my birthday, too. A practically priced one that I can wear and not freak out over. "My life", right? (that's supposed to be a sarcastic complaint) He and Barb let us know they were "engaged" though hadn't gotten a ring yet. They were, of course, broken up and she wasn't living in his house by the time he went into the hospital at the beginning of November. But they were both pretty happy in July. My dad was smiling and laughing and they were silly and happy. I don't know what went wrong to ruin things so much between then and November.
Anyway, I want to remember those times so I'm writing them out instead of just remembering.
Dealing with his estate has been a full time job alongside work. I've been taking pictures of big things and listing them on craigslist and clearing out small portions of his house at a time. A desk of stuff here, a closet there, a corner or room. We've gotten most of his clothes donated, though I'm holding out for a place that can really use his suits and dress clothes well - like gives them to homeless job seekers or something - I know those places exist! I've also done part of the basement and bits of other rooms. We're working on his shop, too, though not really touched his office yet. I have no idea what I'm gonna do with his loads of files. All that handwritten stuff (suddenly precious) and things he cared about and that really mattered to him. John comes with me most of the times I'm over there, but it's just me and him. My mom comes sometimes, too, which is a huge help as she can take things she wants (or Lizzy wants) and help me make decisions. I know I could/should just pay the attorney to manage the estate, but I feel like it's my duty, this last thing I have to do for him. He wrote down that I should administer and fuck if I'm going to pawn it off on someone else when he said I should do it. A lot of it is really hard to go through though. There are a lot of "finds", but the physical act of going through things isn't the bad part. It's easy to make bags of trash and boxes for donation, or take pictures of furniture and pop it on craigslist. I sold both his cars to carmax, getting more than we expected for the Camry and way less than we expected for the Mercedes wagon. That was shitty - apparently he fucked it up and set off the airbags, it sounded like he ran over/back up off of one of those spike strips like in a parking garage. All the guys at the dealership remembered him and sold him various cars in the past year or two. They said he had the wagon towed in a couple months after he bought it with the front tires blown out and the airbags deployed, and there was a 16k insurance claim or something. Anyway, the airbag deployment screwed up the value, and I just took it back to carmax since it was a lot less complicated to sell it to them. The clerk at carmax was the same really nice girl both times, and she was really friendly and told me she worked at a bank as well and gave me advice about the check and stuff.
Like I was saying, I forget it's all happened most of the time. Like it was just a bad dream and he might leave me a message asking how to measure the cat's legs because he thinks they're really short. I want to call him up and talk for my whole car ride, and then some. Make awful jokes at the grocery store ("wow all this for $20!") and watch him pretend the korean people at Lotte are calling him "roundeye" (so racist haha). Just, anything. Commiserate about Lizzy not working, or Barb being too down on herself, or how good a steak is. Or ask him about New York City and growing up there, or about anything, you know, cause he always had an answer. Whenever we have to do anything in the house or the furnace is being crappy, I miss that I can't call him anymore. Knowing and seeing the consequences of all the things he screwed up hurts so much; I just don't know what to do about it. Stumbling upon things. Showing some guy my mom works with his workshop and then being asked to put a price on this whole huge portion of my dad's life, that he cared about so much - it's excruciating.
I don't know how to do it.
Then he got a DUI and I pulled away more again and didn't see him for a few months. He'd call and say crazy things, and Barb would come by the library or call me over and over with all kinds of things - could I check on him sort of stuff (my response always "he's an adult who can take care of himself and neither I nor you can be responsible for him or his actions", I wish I'd done it now of course). I visited in June or something after we had made plans, around 12 or 1, to go to lunch, and he wasn't ready and didn't remember and had clearly been sleeping or something. We had a huge yelling fight and I told him I was the only person who was still willing to help him. Then I mowed his lawn, which took goddamn forever and the backyard is a big hill so it wasn't really a fun time, but I got it done. I'd never used a powered lawn mower before so I didn't know you squeeze the handle to get it to self propel. My full body weight wasn't enough to push it across some parts of his yard, and I was having a hell of a time until my dad came over kind of laughing and showed me how to do it (probably 30 minutes later, too!). I hate that that's probably the last good memory I have of my dad. We didn't make it to lunch, so we didn't really get to talk. I hate to think of how he must have been feeling, and what he must've been doing, and what my yelled words must have meant at that point. I was frustrated because I knew he had a court date later that week and no ride as he wasn't talking to Barb again, and he hadn't told me about the DUI at all let alone the court date. I told him I would drive him if he wanted me to, but then didn't follow up and he didn't call to ask.
I think that was before my birthday, when I saw him well for the last time. That was a pretty good time, at least, though we didn't go out to dinner or anything with him. John and I went over and he and Barb were there and he gave me a way too expensive watch, which Barb pointed out matched his watch. I did need and had been asking to have my prior watch fixed, as the seal failed and it kept getting cloudy. My dad had gotten it for me as a graduation present. But John had just given me a new watch for my birthday, too. A practically priced one that I can wear and not freak out over. "My life", right? (that's supposed to be a sarcastic complaint) He and Barb let us know they were "engaged" though hadn't gotten a ring yet. They were, of course, broken up and she wasn't living in his house by the time he went into the hospital at the beginning of November. But they were both pretty happy in July. My dad was smiling and laughing and they were silly and happy. I don't know what went wrong to ruin things so much between then and November.
Anyway, I want to remember those times so I'm writing them out instead of just remembering.
Dealing with his estate has been a full time job alongside work. I've been taking pictures of big things and listing them on craigslist and clearing out small portions of his house at a time. A desk of stuff here, a closet there, a corner or room. We've gotten most of his clothes donated, though I'm holding out for a place that can really use his suits and dress clothes well - like gives them to homeless job seekers or something - I know those places exist! I've also done part of the basement and bits of other rooms. We're working on his shop, too, though not really touched his office yet. I have no idea what I'm gonna do with his loads of files. All that handwritten stuff (suddenly precious) and things he cared about and that really mattered to him. John comes with me most of the times I'm over there, but it's just me and him. My mom comes sometimes, too, which is a huge help as she can take things she wants (or Lizzy wants) and help me make decisions. I know I could/should just pay the attorney to manage the estate, but I feel like it's my duty, this last thing I have to do for him. He wrote down that I should administer and fuck if I'm going to pawn it off on someone else when he said I should do it. A lot of it is really hard to go through though. There are a lot of "finds", but the physical act of going through things isn't the bad part. It's easy to make bags of trash and boxes for donation, or take pictures of furniture and pop it on craigslist. I sold both his cars to carmax, getting more than we expected for the Camry and way less than we expected for the Mercedes wagon. That was shitty - apparently he fucked it up and set off the airbags, it sounded like he ran over/back up off of one of those spike strips like in a parking garage. All the guys at the dealership remembered him and sold him various cars in the past year or two. They said he had the wagon towed in a couple months after he bought it with the front tires blown out and the airbags deployed, and there was a 16k insurance claim or something. Anyway, the airbag deployment screwed up the value, and I just took it back to carmax since it was a lot less complicated to sell it to them. The clerk at carmax was the same really nice girl both times, and she was really friendly and told me she worked at a bank as well and gave me advice about the check and stuff.
Like I was saying, I forget it's all happened most of the time. Like it was just a bad dream and he might leave me a message asking how to measure the cat's legs because he thinks they're really short. I want to call him up and talk for my whole car ride, and then some. Make awful jokes at the grocery store ("wow all this for $20!") and watch him pretend the korean people at Lotte are calling him "roundeye" (so racist haha). Just, anything. Commiserate about Lizzy not working, or Barb being too down on herself, or how good a steak is. Or ask him about New York City and growing up there, or about anything, you know, cause he always had an answer. Whenever we have to do anything in the house or the furnace is being crappy, I miss that I can't call him anymore. Knowing and seeing the consequences of all the things he screwed up hurts so much; I just don't know what to do about it. Stumbling upon things. Showing some guy my mom works with his workshop and then being asked to put a price on this whole huge portion of my dad's life, that he cared about so much - it's excruciating.
I don't know how to do it.