wildcelticrose.net

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One year ago today, my mother died.

I’ve written plenty about that time, the circumstances surrounding her death and my unfortunate childhood.

I will not post about any of that today.

It will take a long time a lifetime to deal with it all.

No one and no situation is all good or all bad.

But I needed to do something today. To, if not honor observe the “anniversary”.

Last week, I received what the public administrators office deemed, “personal effects with sentimental value”.

I will not go into what was or wasn’t there or why.

But there were some things that I knew I needed to re home.

He roommate Pat (and Irish Catholic) left her with many items some of which I received last year and a few that came last week.

I have already re homed three crucifixes. If one was raised with them (I was not, I was raised Methodist) it’s a comforting symbol. For someone like me (who although not a Christian would imagine the it would be about resurrection and life teachings not death) the image of a dead guy nailed to a cross is rather disturbing.

With that said, I know that it is a sacred symbol to many people and I could not dispose of something that Pat considered sacred and that my mother kept. It may not be a sacred object to me, but I respect the fact that is is a sacred object to other people and will treat it as such.

The first three crucifixes were re homed to my friend Jessica in Madison Wisconsin, my friend John in Bonney Lake and Dale.

There was another crucifix in this last batch.

I knew that if I put it out on Facebook someone who appreciated it would take it.

But I emailed my neighbor Francine (a practicing Catholic)

As it turns out, she and her husband were just saying that they needed one for the hallway of their house.

Yes, it was meant to be.

The other items proved slightly more challenging.

First, the photos, letters and unpublished writings of my Bob’s Watson part of my mother’s “first” family, the Watson family also known as the “First Family of Hollywood” back in the day.

These were not my family memories (heck, I was a result of what she was stuck with and she never got over her first husband) but they were someone’s family memories.

I could not throw them away.

My mother was married to Delmar Watson (probably best known to most of you as “Peter the Goat Boy” in the Shirly Temple version of “Heidi”

Since the family was famous, and Delmar was a renowned photo journalist, I was able to track down the reporter who wrote about Delamr’s death and find a family contact.

I contacted the family and they are happy to have what was left to me for the museum.

Another item was the photo book I created for my mother a few years ago. She loved that book and reported carried it with her wherever she went. Her best friend Joyce loved that book and wanted a copy.

Those of you who have been to my home have seen my copy on my coffee table.

I am sending Joyce my mother’s copy.

The last item is a bit more difficult. Her boss’s wife is an actor (I used to act with her in productions at Plaza Players) and artist. She did a painting of the front of the office (a beautiful old Victorian home) with “Thumper” (the kitty office mascot) in front and tittled it “Thumper’s Castle” Thumper died not long ago. I did not want to just send the painting back as that could be considered an insult to the artist. Instead, I sent an email offering to send them the painting, explaining that I’d be happy to keep it, but I thought that it might be more meaningful to them. If they do not want it, I will not dispose of it.

So we will see what we see on that one.

In any event, this is difficult and will be difficult for a time.

But I felt that I needed to observe the day in a respectful manner and this is what I came up with.

~L

Mood: Gotta Sad
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This is the letter I sent to the Ventura County Public Administrator today. (the ongoing situation with my mother’s items being ruined is explained in the letter)

I am beyond angry, but tried to be civil. I’m tired of being nice.

Dear Jeanne,

L. Lisa Lawrence

Mood: Sad, Depressed and Very VERY ANGRY

~L

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In hopes of staving off “you should/you aren’t/you didn’t” from my mother’s friends, I have sent them the following email”

I spoke with Coast City Cremation this morning.

~L

I hope that they respect that, and don’t pressure me to go down there or do other things that they think I should do.

I don’t want to cause them any more pain than they are already feeling, but I want/need my boundaries and decisions respected.

This is already difficult enough.

~L

Mood: sad

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There won’t be any WTF Wednesday post today; I just don’t have it in me.

I suppose when I’m feeling up to it, I could rant about how our society doesn’t allow people any time to grieve the deaths of their family or loved ones (or heaven forbid deal with guilt/anger/regret from a complicated childhood or traumatic circumstances involving the death) because they are immediately overwhelmed by the need to decide immediately (sometimes before the body is even cold) to move the remains (to a funeral home that will screw them out of as much money as possible when they are in shock, mourning and vulnerable) the pressure to take care of finances they know nothing about, and pressure from others about how they “should” mourn and what they “should” be doing.

Even the onslaught of condolences and well wishes from friends is exhausting.

I finally put a message on my phone voice mail and email that I’m just not up to responding to everyone right now. (pretty much the only people I’ve been willing to see are Molly and the Icky Boy and only because they don’t push and give me my space)

I was going to try to go to work on Thursday (Mon-Wed is my 3 days of bereavement leave and Friday was my scheduled day off) but I’m not up to it. The first time someone says, “I’m so sorry about your Mom.” I’m going to lose it.

I got all of the death certificate and cremation paperwork yesterday (they didn’t contact me until too late in the day on Monday to do anything, so it was no big deal that I wasn’t here)

I was going to have her ashes scattered in the ocean; her friends want the ashes.

Fine-I signed them over.

I’m still waiting for paperwork from the Public Administrator’s office.

One of her friends wants to buy her car. I don’t know how that works if I’m signing off executorship to the PA’s office. I guess I’ll have to find out. If it’s in my power, I’ll just give her the car.

I’m still having a hard time with all of the Mom Drama that went on at the end of last year and earlier this year, not to mention the childhood baggage this has all dredged up.

People will not understand when I refuse to go down there and enter her mobile home to clean it out and sort through her things.

She’s always been a hoarder and after what the medical examiner told me about the condition of the place, there’s no way in hell I’m going in there. Not now, not ever. (having entered scenes like that as a paramedic, I already have a horrid image of it and how she was found burned into my brain)

In addition to the obvious reasons to not want to sort through moldy remnants of my abusive childhood; it’s not how I want to remember her. (I was never allowed in there and always saw her at her office or a restaurant.)

I’m having a difficult time with all of this.

The heat is not helping.

It was “down” to 90 degrees in my bedroom last night when I went to bed. Needless to say, I don’t feel rested or refreshed this morning.

We are supposed to break the all time record for Seattle-Tacoma (official temperature measured at Sea-Tac Airport) with a temperature of 101 today. My apartment may hit 100 degrees today (the highest it ever got before this record is 98)

People don’t have air conditioning in their homes up here in the Pacific Northwest and swamp coolers don’t work (too much humidity) so we have to just suck it up and deal with it.

My little window fans can’t handle how hot my apartment gets (with its SouthWest Exposure and sun beating on the windows and thin walls since the slum lords cut down the tree that shaded the place.

I have on oscillating fan in the living room which isn’t sufficient to push air through even a place this tiny.

Of course, there are no fans to be found; I’ve called every store I can think of and everyone is sold out.

If I had my wits about me last week, I’d have purchased a box fan or two but I was too distracted.

I will just suck it up, take cool showers and lay in front of the fan. I might spend the night over at the Icky Boy’s as his house is a bit cooler.

I did escape to the most remote spot on the North Coast Wilderness Trail that I could get to for two days.

I knew that I had a short time frame in which to escape from the onslaught of calls and emails and I took it.

It didn’t bring me “peace”

As a matter of fact I didn’t sleep much on Sunday night, I was tortured by the “brain gerbils” working on overdrive and nightmares. Monday night was a bit better, but not much.

In any event, it got me away from the phone and email and did distract me for a time.

I was able to cut the photos I took down to 243; they are available as a slide show here…

Or viewable as individual photos here…

I’m not up to writing a trip report yet. Maybe later.

For now, it’s back to reality.

~L

Mood: Tired

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It’s been 14 hours since I was received the notification of my mother’s death.

What an emotional roller coaster that has been (I won’t rehash it, it’s in this morning’s post)

I foolishly went to work this morning thinking I could catch up a bit before going on bereavement leave and that I’d be OK.

Yeah, it was stupid, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do at 4:30 in the morning.

Of course, once calls starting coming in from her neighbors, friends, mobile home park and the medical examiner (the call from the medical examiner really gets one though the denial stage quickly) I immediately realized how stupid it was for me to go in and what a wreck I was.

I made it 4 hours (I work 10 hour shifts) and did get some things accomplished, but when I was done, I was done and couldn’t talk to anyone or answer questions.

Thankfully, I didn’t start getting hit with, “We need to know what to do with her body”, (turning her remains over to a funeral home would be ghastly expensive in addition to upsetting) and, “You need to pay rent on her mobile home space until you decide what to do with it.”

I haven’t even started grieving or processing the issues this has brought out and I’m being driven to bankruptcy.

It’s not just me, this is what the system does to everyone who loses a family member or loved one; pressure them, bleed them dry and upset them even more, sometimes before the body is even cold more or less they’ve had time to grieve.

She has a funeral plot somewhere, but I don’t know where (she was talked into it by a “friend” over 20 years ago) and burials are outrageous.

None of her friends knew either, and you can’t just leave someone laying in the medical examiner’s office.

She told me earlier this year when she was in the hospital that I could do what I wanted with the plot and have her cremated (it’s what she did with her mother)

Of course, I don’t have a thousand dollars laying around.

James Baroni from the Ventura County Medical Examiner’s Office is a truly compassionate person and good at what he does. He put me in touch the Public Administrator’s office who will make arrangements and administer the estate (a few thousand dollars in the bank and her trailer)

I didn’t know that such a thing existed. It takes a huge load off, the fees are reasonable (will be deducted from the estate) and I don’t have to hire an attorney.

I decided on cremation which they will take care of.

I also decided to let them scatter her ashes in the ocean off the coast of Santa Barbara/Ventura.

I think she would like that. She loved the ocean and she considered a human body “just a shell”. She always hated the casket-burial thing.

She had enough in her checking account to cover it (by design, I’m sure) so once I sign the forms, the Public Administrator’s office can pay for it out of her bank account.

At least that bit is taken care of.

He gave me the details of how she was found… *don’t read further if this is the type of thing that upsets you

It was my worst nightmare; she was wearing two nightgowns and adult diapers collapsed in her hallway, not in bed dying peacefully in her sleep or of too much pain medication. The medication bottles found indicate that she did not overdose on pain medication. (for her sake, I wish she had)

I may have had my issues with her and my upbringing, but this was what I hoped wouldn’t happen; it’s the horrible death that I predicted, and wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Post mortem rigor and lividity were fixed meaning that she had been dead at least 8-12 hours from the condition of her body, he suspects a day or two.

Since there was no indication of overdose, and I didn’t feel an autopsy was needed I told the medical examiner that I wasn’t requesting one, but that I wouldn’t block one either.

Her doctor agreed and will sign off on the death certificate.

She lied to me and everyone else about how sick she was, and it was as bad as I suspected. (and as I’ve said before, she did all of this to herself due to her lifestyle choices; it was all preventable)

Per her doctor, “She had chronic congestive heart failure, hypertension, ischemic cardiomyopathy, peripheral vascular disease with venous insufficiency, and type 2 diabetes mellitus. She was extremely non-compliant with her medications.

They also found a mass on one of her kidneys when she was in the hospital that she refused to let them check out.

I’m exhausted (it’s now been 15 hours) and am going to get ready for bed.

I’m going to finish cleaning this place up before it gets too hot tomorrow, walk over to the Icky Boy’s to look in on SweetKitty (he’s still on his backpacking trip) do something physical and spend some time with my best friend (she offered to come over tonight, but I really want 24 hours to just be left alone)

Thank you everyone who has sent messages, as you can well imagine, I’m just not up to responding right now.

~L

Mood: sad

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I grossly over estimated my ability to deal with this and the emotions it has brought forth.

My great ideas of dealing with it by exercise is not happening, I’m physically and emotionally fried.

I don’t know how people do it.

I’m still grieving (along with a host of other emotions) and I’m supposed to pay for cremation or a funeral or something.

And I’m supposed to pay rent on her shit hole trailer.

I can barely pay my own living expenses and I’m expected to do this…

I’m the only child so I’m the executor of an “estate”.

She has a few thousand dollars in the bank and the trailer.

I don’t think she has any debt.

So yes, I could get a small bit of money out of this (or break even)

I don’t want anything.

I don’t want money.

I don’t want any memories of her or my childhood.

I don’t want to go down there.

I don’t want to deal with any of it

~L

Mood: sad

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I received the notification this morning. (the calls and emails came in last night when I was already asleep)

My mother was found dead in her mobile home yesterday evening.

She chose this end; she chose it a long time ago.

Her friends and neighbors have tried for weeks to get her to come to the door and/or let them in to check on her.

She’s repeatedly refused.

A friend and a neighbor sent the police out last Thursday for a welfare check; she refused to come to the door and yelled at them to go away.

I called her after that incident, she yelled at me, hung up on me, took her phone off the hook and I never heard from her again.

I called the police again on Sunday to check on her, and she again, told them to go away and leave her alone.

The law says they can not force entry unless they can see her on the floor, she sounds sick/is unable to respond with full cognition or there is no response and the mail piled up.

I filed a report with Adult Protective Services on Monday. They said they’d file the report but that as long as she was “with it” (she may have been crazy in her own way, but she was crazy like a fox) they could not force her to accept help.

Had they forced entry before she died, her advanced directives were very clear, no life support. She did not want to go back into the hospital; she did want to allow anyone into her home to help her and keep her safe. None of us had any legal right to force this.

Even though I have been expecting this (and even told people last Thursday that I expected her to be found dead by “this time next week” which was spot on to the day) I am in a certain amount of denial. I am alternating between that, numbness anger guilt and sadness.

The only reason she allowed the surgery earlier this year to save her leg is because she “hoped shed die on the operating table” she told this to both me and her surgeon.

She did all of this to herself with years of alcohol abuse, refusing to exercise eat properly or follow her doctor’s instructions (she only went to the doctor when she wanted medication)
Even though I have been expecting this (and even told people last Thursday that I expected her to be found dead by “this time next week” which was spot on to the day) I am in a certain amount of denial. I am alternating between that, numbness anger and sadness.

None of this self/substance abuse or lying is anything new. She lied to, manipulated and fooled everyone including her best friends and doctor.

I’ve been lied to my entire life. I’ve been lied to about life altering important things, like her saying that my biological father wanted nothing to do with me, when I found out after his death that he had in fact tried to find me. She always made sure we had an unlisted number and that we couldn’t be found.

Ah the stages of grief-Guilt for not rushing down there (I used to do it all the time; I finally gave up on that) guilt for not being able to convince her to take care of herself or follow doctor’s orders, guilt for not being able to make her want to live. Guilt for knowing her friends likely thing I’m the worst daughter in the world for not rushing down there. Guilt for not loving her like a “good” daughter is supposed to love her mother.

And anger… Anger for being mean to those of us to that love and care about her, shutting us out and making us worry for weeks about if she was dead or alive or laying there suffering. She put us through Hell.

Anger for her allowing (through active denial) my step-father to sexually abuse me, anger for her going through stages where she abused herself abused me (for a time in my early teens, she’d come home drunk, wake me up and pick a fight with me-even striking me when I objected; I was a kid, who had to go to school the next day, asleep in my own bed minding my own business, WTF?) anger for not having a normal childhood and a normal mother daughter bond.

And Guilt for being angry.

I’ve worked very hard to forgive her for all of this (and more that I won’t go into) and to be as kind to her as I can.

I am not certain if I’ll go down there or not. I have no desire to sort through her filthy trailer to find moldy remnants of my abusive childhood, which I have spent my entire life trying to overcome.

I don’t want anything from her.

I hate funerals and I’m sure hers would be nicer with just her friends sharing happy memories. (who am I to burst their bubble?)

I came in to work this morning to get some things done before everyone else comes in.

I don’t know how long I will last here, but I’m behind and it was better than sitting home alone. (the Icky Boy doesn’t get back from his backpacking trip until late Monday night)

I’ve told my co-workers that I don’t want flowers. They are expensive (a cheery bunch of daffodils that I pick up at Thriftway occasionally for my kitchen table is one thing, but florist shops are ridiculous) and will just make me sad; I don’t want to be reminded of this. (I told them that they can take me out to Duke’s for a happy hour pomegranate martini some time instead, but not today, probably not for a while)

I am going to try to run today and to go for the open water swim after work.

Physical exercise is good therapy.

I will try to volunteer for/ride the Seattle Century tomorrow. It will all depend on if I’m able to sleep/eat normally tonight. (I don’t need a repeat of the “mom stress” heart incident)

I need to finish this up and do what I can at work. As I receive phone calls and emails, it is apparent that I should not be here today.

I hope my mother found the peace in death that she never found in life.

~L

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After not hearing from my mother since she yelled at me last Thursday night on the phone (and then took it off the hook) I got worried that she could be laying on the floor after taking (yet another) fall dying of dehydration and internal bleeding.

If she chooses to take her own life, that’s one thing, but the thought of her dying a horrible death (which appears to be in her future if she doesn’t change) like that is not something I could live with.

No one had seen her for over a week.

Her mail was still piled up on the porch railing (her neighbor puts it where she can reach it from the back door so that she does not have to go down the steps to go to the mailbox.)

I had to try.

I called the police last night to have them do another welfare check.

She was still alive, refused to come to the door and told them to go away.

They told her that I was worried and that she should call me.

She did not call me, and the phone is still off the hook.

I called the phone company this morning and they tested the line for me.

The phone is off the hook.

I called Adult Protective Services and filed a report.

The told me the same thing that the police did, they can’t force her to accept help.

If she appears “OK” (she’s not OK-that, along with the filth and clutter she lives in is why she won’t come to the door) they can’t force entry or make her do anything because she is an adult in her “right mind”.

I know that if I go down there, she won’t open the door for me either.

She’s afraid that she’ll be put in a home and she doesn’t want anyone in her house helping her.

I just don’t have words.

This will probably be the last you hear from me on this, as it’s depressing and going nowhere.

We all know where this will end; she’ll finally be found dead, and it won’t have been an easy or peaceful death.

Perhaps then, she will find the peace that she never found in life.

~L

Mood: sad

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My mother is pissed at her neighbors, pissed at her friends and pissed at me over the police being called.

They can not legally force entry.

She has had the phone off the hook all day (and who knows, maybe all night)

I appreciate all the suggestions of calling different agencies, it’s been done.

She is a master manipulator and a bald faced lair.

I found out yesterday from her neighbor that when she had the severe edema (swelling for those not up on medical terminology) it was all the way up to her waist (why her heart didn’t stop completely I don’t know) She told the doctor that is “just happened a day or so ago” and never let them see how far up it was.

She knew she was diabetic, and she’d go on crazy crash diets to get her blood sugar down just before her appointments so that her blood sugar would test out OK.

She has a mass on her kidney that she refuses to have looked at (she’s had cancer twice and doesn’t want to go through that kind of treatment again)

She was working in a law office up until she finally went in for surgery.

She is as sharp as a tack, knows that she can not be declared unable to care for or make decisions for herself and that there is no implied consent. (and did I mention that she’s a charmer and manipulative?)

Shes’ not stupid and has brought every bit of this on herself by refusing to take her medications (I begged and pleaded with her to take her blood pressure medication when I was in my 20s as a paramedic telling her how people who don’t have strokes and end up in extended care facilities having their diapers changes and being fed through a tube in their nose)

The only reason she agreed to the surgery earlier this year is because she hoped she’d die on the operating table (she told this to both me and her surgeon)

She won’t go to the doctor or let anyone in to her home because she KNOWS that she will not be allowed to live alone in her filthy (she’s a hoarder) mobile home. She doesn’t want anyone in there and doesn’t want to be put in a home.

I’ve dropped everything and flown/drove out there more times that I can count only to have her return to her self destructive lifestyle. (which is a lot more than should be expected given the abuse I put up with as a child)

I’m not doing it any more.

I can’t make her want to live.

I can’t make her take care of herself.

I can try to not let it make me physically ill again (trust me, this brings back a lot of my childhood/abuse issues) and not end up like her. (and I’m most certainly not going down there, break into her house and potentially have a criminal record that will lose me my job)

Unless she suddenly decides that she has something to live for (not likely) I expect that she will be dead (either intentionally or unintentionally) by this time next week.

It’s what she wants.

~L

Mood: resigned

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I have to get this off my chest or explode. (or worse, make myself sick again)

At the beginning of this year my mother’s many years of depression, alcohol abuse, refusal to eat properly, exercise or take her meds, as well as her constant deception/manipulation caught up with her.

She could no longer lie to her doctor (and everyone else) and hide how severe her edema and diabetes was (she almost lost her leg and her life to septic shock) she was admitted to the hospital, went through a risky bypass surgery to try to save her leg and then had to spend some time in a convalescent facility.

The lying, manipulation and frustration during this whole episode brought back a lot of childhood issues. (gross understatement)

I don’t believe in playing the victim card. In the end, we are the ones responsible for what kind of person we choose to become in life. But growing up in an abusive, alcoholic household makes it a challenge. To say that it doesn’t affect us, that it didn’t affect me and my ability to trust and have healthy relationships would be disingenuous; heck, it would be a bald faced lie.

I don’t know what it’s like to have a parent that I could trust not to hurt me, or to not even lie to me. It’s difficult to know that you can not/have never been able to trust your own mother.

I’ve chosen not to be bitter; I’ve chosen to be the best daughter I can and not to hurt my mother by being angry towards her about it or to shut her out of my life. There is no reason to hurt her more than she’s already been hurt. (she was a victim as well; she didn’t intend to cause me harm)

But the being lied to again did bring things back.

I allowed the stress of this situation, as well as the past trauma it brought up to make me stressed, sleep deprived and as a result, very sick (I bonked on the Chilly Hilly bike ride with a heart rate of 215)

During this time, in addition to saving her leg and stopping the infection raging through her body they managed to reverse most of the congestive heart failure and get her diabetes (both of which she denied having) under control.

When she finally got out, she swore that she would do her physical therapy, exercise/walk, take her medications, go to her doctor’s appointments and eat properly.

She swore she was a “changed woman” because she “never wants to go through that again.”

She was lying.

She was lying to me, her doctors, her friends and most of all herself.

Am I surprised?

No.

Am I disappointed?

Hell Yes!

People in my family live long productive lives, when they choose to do so.

None of this was about genetics, it was all about her abusing herself.

Heck, I met Sister Madonna at the Moses Lake Olympic Triathlon. She is the same age as my mother (79) and is an Ironman.

I don’t expect my mother to do something that extreme, but it is an example that age doesn’t matter and that a person can overcome just about anything if they choose to.

I would think that this near death and traumatic experience might convince her to take her medication and take a walk (in her very safe community with other people)

People can do amazing things with their lives if they choose.

Or they can piss them away.

As I type this, my mother is holed up in her mobile home refusing to answer the door, even when the police (who were called by her former boss/long time friend to do a welfare check because they couldn’t get a hold of her her two days after she had fallen and was taking a lot of pain medication) banged on it for a good long time.

She’s pissed at her neighbor, and pissed at me because she thinks I called her former boss (he was the one who contacted me today) after she forbade me from contacting him after she was released from the hospital months ago.

She’s been falling and injuring herself again, adjusting her own medications (not taking what she should, and taking things not currently prescribed), not doing her physical therapy or exercising and hasn’t been going to the doctor. She promised to call him on Monday after she told me about her latest fall, but has yet to do so because she “hasn’t had time”-she’s just been taking lots of pain meds.

Sadly, the police can’t force entry unless they see her on the floor, and she’s got the place sealed up too tightly for that. I guess they’ll have to wait for the day that the neighbors complain about the rotting stench of her corpse. (yes, it’s crass, but it’s the way it is)

She’s pissed at her neighbor and Ed for calling the police and for banging on her doors and window (in the middle of the day when most people who aren’t drugged out are awake)

I’ve been telling her over and over that she’s going to fall and die a slow painful death in there and that if she continues this way that social services will become involved and she might get taken away and put in a home. (I was pretty sure that threat would go nowhere because she knows that if she’s in her right mind there is no implied consent-never try to bluff someone that has worked in the legal field, especially not one who is a master manipulator)

She also went off on me at the thought that I might call her doctor to tell him what’s going on since she hasn’t even though she promised to do so. (she’d just lie to him like she always has anyway)

She’s made it very clear that she’s the “adult” and I’m not to call anyone.

Uh… yeah… right…

I can’t make her take care of herself and I can’t do anything to change her living arrangements (she should NOT be living alone and knows it) not even legally at this point.

I’m determined not to let this make me sick again or to let anyone guilt me.

No one needs to respond too this, I just needed to get it off my chest.

~L

Mood: Resigned

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