Have you ever noticed when your mind is consumed with something, you see that thing everywhere you go. It’s like when you are pregnant, it appears like the rest of the female population is also pregnant. Or when you buy a new car and everywhere you drive someone is driving that exact same car right beside you.
Well for months after Len died it was like that for me. Every pickup truck that I would pass had Len sitting in the cab. Every blond man who would walk by I would have to do a double take cause I could of sworn that was Len that just walked by. I would hear this big voice full of laughter and have to look around cause I was sure it was Len laughing at something.
These sighting went on for months and months. And what seemed crazy, was I was the only one in my house who saw Len in all these strangers. I even had a few dreams where we new Len was dead but he was alive if that makes any sense.
When I sleep I dream just about every night. I don’t always remember my entire dream sometimes it is just a feeling that I wake up with and it stays with me through out the day. But one thing with all of my dreams that is consistent is my family and I are still living in our old house. We moved over 7 years ago but I still to this day dream as if we still live there. It was about two months after Len died that my dreams of him started. I would have dreams where my mom and siblings are all sitting in my living room and Len is telling us about his trip to Belize. I am pacing the living room floor and getting upset because we all know Len is dead but he is sitting there talking to us. Finally there is a break in the conversation and I ask Len how he could be here when he is dead and then he instantly disappears. My brother and sister sit there in shock and my mom starts to yell at me “Len was with us why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut. If you didn’t ask so many questions Len would still be here”. Or another dream, Len and I are leaning against the back of his truck in my driveway just shooting the breeze. Then Len turns around and starts to walk away and says while pointing to me “she’s right about that God and Heaven thing” and then he is gone. There were more dreams all similar to the two above but the unusual part of all of these dreams was in everyone setting was our currant home. The dreams of Len are the only dreams I have every had, where we live in this house.
I am not sure what that all means or if it means anything. Maybe it is because Len helped design and build the fireplace and built in wall unit in our family room. Or maybe because just before he left for vacation we had arranged for him to help move a wall and closet in our laundry room. While Len was away my husband tore the wall out and was just waiting for Len to come home to help with the plumbing and electrical. Or when I was going through his computer looking for work related files after he died, I came across designs of my dining room that we had discussed doing in the future. The dining room was going to have a wider entrance with half pillars and display shelving below them.
Perhaps our home has more of Len in it, then I ever realized. He came for dinner often when he was in the area. Since we have lived here, most Christmas dinners have been prepared and celebrated in this home with the whole family. Even before we officially bought the house it was Len who came and did the inspection for us. And with his usual humour while he laid on a bathroom floor with his head under the toilet tank looking for leaks, I asked him what was taking so long and he said “I am just enjoying how clean it is under here cause it will probably be the last time I ever see it this clean.” And his is right, who cleans behind the toilet!
I know it sounds cliché but we get so caught up in our everyday lives and take for granted what seemed like unimportant moments. That we don’t see the value of our relationship with others till it’s too late. Sad…..
Showing posts with label Death of Len. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Death of Len. Show all posts
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
The Boys
Grief is such an all consuming thing, we get so wrapped up in our own feelings and the taking care of our own families grief, we forget about the loved ones friends. And just as devastated as we are, they can be at times even more as it is a peer. I understand the feelings on both sides now as I lost a good friend to a car accident 16 years ago and now losing my brother. The grief of a losing an important person to you is overwhelming and for some it can take a very long time to feel ‘normal’ again.
Len has some amazing friends. For us, his family we always called the three good friends of Len’s ‘The Boys’. The Boys have been apart of Lens life since they were all teenagers in high school. I remember the first time meeting them, my mom was moving and Len brought three friends with him to help. Who knew that, that simple act of kindness would last into a life long friendship.
When all of our family gathered together on the day Len died, also there, sharing in our shock and grief was ‘The Boys’. The three of them stood by the entrance to the living room and though they were all grown men with families of there own. At that moment when I looked at them they looked like three 16-year-old boys, scared, shocked, and not sure just what to say or do. But like the true friends they were to my brother they were there for his family. The three of them stepped up and helped take care of Lens business interests, they made sure that the assets of Len’s business were safe and accounted for, it was one less thing for us to worry about.
Though they all were in such deep sorrow they never loss sight of what was important, and that was that my mom was being taken care off. To this day each of The Boys call her regularly, take her out for lunch and recently once again helped her move.
The summer after Len died The Boys called and asked us to come for a BBQ. They wanted to see my Mom and show us all something. So on a beautiful Saturday we drove the close to two-hour drive north to spend the day together. We finally pulled into the driveway, there was already a large crowd of people there. I wanted to just blend in, as I didn’t know most of the guests. I found it hard to talk to anyone as I could feel the tears starting, but at least this time I was more prepared and had Kleenex in my pocket. As the afternoon progressed, someone would come up not knowing who I was and ask how did I know The Boys. I would reply "I am Len’s sister", the look of fear ‘Get me out of here and quick’ on their faces was priceless.
As the afternoon turned to early evening ‘The Boys’ gathered us up and brought us over to a corner of the yard. In the corner was a large rock that the three of them had engraved with Lens name and all of their names around it. It was a beautiful sentiment and even now when I see a picture of it, it brings tears to my eyes. But the best part of the rock was the story behind it.
Traditionally ‘The Boys’ including Len would go up to a cottage on the May long weekend. It was a weekend of eating big steaks, laughing, and drinking beer or in Lens case, as he didn’t care for beer, drinking some fancy girly drink. With Len not physically with them anymore they were hesitant to go, But my mom encourage them, and told them it would be good to get together. She felt that it would be what Len would of wanted.
So the three of them packed up a truck and went up north, but they were not with out Len, as they decided to bring the rock up with them. This is a big rock and it would take two strong men to normally carry it but add beer and grief to the mix and they needed all three of them. They loaded the rock on the truck and head to the cottage. The plan had been to leave the rock at the cottage, as it was a place were they all shared great memories of being together. But nobody could decide just were the rock should go as Len loved everything about being at the cottage. When they went down to the lake for a swim, they carried the rock down and sat it on the dock so Len could watch them swim. When they sat around the bonfire at night, so did the rock. When it was time for a beer, the rock got a beer as well (though I am sure the rock would of preferred a Singapore Sling). At night when it was time to go to bed, well they couldn’t just leave the rock outside by its self so into the cottage it came. The last day at the cottage was the day ‘The Boys’ needed to come to a consensus on just the right spot at the cottage for the rock to stay. They wandered the land with the rock and after much discussion they finally came to an agreement. The three of them carried the rock back to the pickup truck and heaved it up into the bed of the truck. Just as the four of them traditionally drove to the cottage every May long weekend, the four of them drove back from the cottage together.
And to this day it sits in the back corner of one of ‘The Boys’ back yard for all to see and reminisce about Len and the importance of friendship.
Len has some amazing friends. For us, his family we always called the three good friends of Len’s ‘The Boys’. The Boys have been apart of Lens life since they were all teenagers in high school. I remember the first time meeting them, my mom was moving and Len brought three friends with him to help. Who knew that, that simple act of kindness would last into a life long friendship.
When all of our family gathered together on the day Len died, also there, sharing in our shock and grief was ‘The Boys’. The three of them stood by the entrance to the living room and though they were all grown men with families of there own. At that moment when I looked at them they looked like three 16-year-old boys, scared, shocked, and not sure just what to say or do. But like the true friends they were to my brother they were there for his family. The three of them stepped up and helped take care of Lens business interests, they made sure that the assets of Len’s business were safe and accounted for, it was one less thing for us to worry about.
Though they all were in such deep sorrow they never loss sight of what was important, and that was that my mom was being taken care off. To this day each of The Boys call her regularly, take her out for lunch and recently once again helped her move.
The summer after Len died The Boys called and asked us to come for a BBQ. They wanted to see my Mom and show us all something. So on a beautiful Saturday we drove the close to two-hour drive north to spend the day together. We finally pulled into the driveway, there was already a large crowd of people there. I wanted to just blend in, as I didn’t know most of the guests. I found it hard to talk to anyone as I could feel the tears starting, but at least this time I was more prepared and had Kleenex in my pocket. As the afternoon progressed, someone would come up not knowing who I was and ask how did I know The Boys. I would reply "I am Len’s sister", the look of fear ‘Get me out of here and quick’ on their faces was priceless.
As the afternoon turned to early evening ‘The Boys’ gathered us up and brought us over to a corner of the yard. In the corner was a large rock that the three of them had engraved with Lens name and all of their names around it. It was a beautiful sentiment and even now when I see a picture of it, it brings tears to my eyes. But the best part of the rock was the story behind it.
Traditionally ‘The Boys’ including Len would go up to a cottage on the May long weekend. It was a weekend of eating big steaks, laughing, and drinking beer or in Lens case, as he didn’t care for beer, drinking some fancy girly drink. With Len not physically with them anymore they were hesitant to go, But my mom encourage them, and told them it would be good to get together. She felt that it would be what Len would of wanted.
So the three of them packed up a truck and went up north, but they were not with out Len, as they decided to bring the rock up with them. This is a big rock and it would take two strong men to normally carry it but add beer and grief to the mix and they needed all three of them. They loaded the rock on the truck and head to the cottage. The plan had been to leave the rock at the cottage, as it was a place were they all shared great memories of being together. But nobody could decide just were the rock should go as Len loved everything about being at the cottage. When they went down to the lake for a swim, they carried the rock down and sat it on the dock so Len could watch them swim. When they sat around the bonfire at night, so did the rock. When it was time for a beer, the rock got a beer as well (though I am sure the rock would of preferred a Singapore Sling). At night when it was time to go to bed, well they couldn’t just leave the rock outside by its self so into the cottage it came. The last day at the cottage was the day ‘The Boys’ needed to come to a consensus on just the right spot at the cottage for the rock to stay. They wandered the land with the rock and after much discussion they finally came to an agreement. The three of them carried the rock back to the pickup truck and heaved it up into the bed of the truck. Just as the four of them traditionally drove to the cottage every May long weekend, the four of them drove back from the cottage together.
And to this day it sits in the back corner of one of ‘The Boys’ back yard for all to see and reminisce about Len and the importance of friendship.
Monday, June 8, 2009
The First Family Gathering
Less then a month after Len’s funeral the entire family was getting together for a ‘New House’ party. The party was being held out near where Len lived so we also made plans to pick up Len’s ashes on our way.
I have never held the ashes of a person before. I didn’t know what to expect but when the plastic bag with a box in it was passed to me it was a little shocking. It was just a plain nondescript grey box, no more then 8 inches long and 8 inches high. I didn’t know what to do with it, curiosity wanted me to look in the box but the scared part of me didn’t want anything to do with it. The kids were a little freaked out by the whole situation and so we decided to store the box in the trunk. So now Len is sitting in my trunk and we are our way to a party, seems like such an oxymoron.
The closer we get to the party, the more nervous I seem to get. I think to myself how can the rest of the world carry on, doesn’t anyone notice that everything is different now? It takes all the energy I have to get dressed each day and now I have to be happy too. If I had it my way, we would turn around and head for home. To late we are pulling into the driveway. We walk up to the door, I look at the kids, tell them to put there ‘brave face’ on and in we go
The house is crowded with family and lots of people we don’t know. As we walk in heads turn and everyone stares at us. This is the first time we have all been together since the funeral and there is an awkward silence. I don’t know what to do or say the kids are trying to hide behind me, my husband is keeping himself busy with coats and bags. After what seems an eternity my mother comes up to me and hugs me. Just seeing her here is reminding me that Len is in the trunk of my car. Emotion is over whelming me and I am having a hard time trying not to cry. My mother takes me upstairs to a bedroom and we talk and cry. We have talked everyday since Len’s funeral but today is the first time we have seen each other. I tell her about our earlier stop and that we have Len in the trunk for her to take home. We decide that it is best not to tell anyone else about Len being in my car.
Mom and I return to the party and mingle. I can’t remember much of the party but I am assuming we ate, drank and laughed. What we ate drank or laughed about I have no clue but after a while the awkwardness seemed to subside. We eventually said our goodbyes, my husband went out to the car and got Len and gave him to my mom.
I have never held the ashes of a person before. I didn’t know what to expect but when the plastic bag with a box in it was passed to me it was a little shocking. It was just a plain nondescript grey box, no more then 8 inches long and 8 inches high. I didn’t know what to do with it, curiosity wanted me to look in the box but the scared part of me didn’t want anything to do with it. The kids were a little freaked out by the whole situation and so we decided to store the box in the trunk. So now Len is sitting in my trunk and we are our way to a party, seems like such an oxymoron.
The closer we get to the party, the more nervous I seem to get. I think to myself how can the rest of the world carry on, doesn’t anyone notice that everything is different now? It takes all the energy I have to get dressed each day and now I have to be happy too. If I had it my way, we would turn around and head for home. To late we are pulling into the driveway. We walk up to the door, I look at the kids, tell them to put there ‘brave face’ on and in we go
The house is crowded with family and lots of people we don’t know. As we walk in heads turn and everyone stares at us. This is the first time we have all been together since the funeral and there is an awkward silence. I don’t know what to do or say the kids are trying to hide behind me, my husband is keeping himself busy with coats and bags. After what seems an eternity my mother comes up to me and hugs me. Just seeing her here is reminding me that Len is in the trunk of my car. Emotion is over whelming me and I am having a hard time trying not to cry. My mother takes me upstairs to a bedroom and we talk and cry. We have talked everyday since Len’s funeral but today is the first time we have seen each other. I tell her about our earlier stop and that we have Len in the trunk for her to take home. We decide that it is best not to tell anyone else about Len being in my car.
Mom and I return to the party and mingle. I can’t remember much of the party but I am assuming we ate, drank and laughed. What we ate drank or laughed about I have no clue but after a while the awkwardness seemed to subside. We eventually said our goodbyes, my husband went out to the car and got Len and gave him to my mom.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Empty
All my extended family has left to catch their planes and head back to their lives. The house feels empty, now what? What am I supposed to do? Do I just go on with family life like before or is things supposed to be different? I stand looking out my front window wondering, just wondering…. My heart just wants to go to bed and sleep, but my mind just never seems to turn off. So I do, and when I am finished doing, I do some more.
Everywhere I look I see flowers every room has bouquets of flowers. How I hate them, I didn’t want them coming home with us, I begged people to take them, but looks like my house is a funeral home. My husband doesn’t get ‘it’ when I start tossing all the bouquets, and sprays of flowers. He looks at me and keeps saying “but you like flowers, there just flowers what’s the difference”? I know I like flowers but not these ones, its bad enough that we have boxes in the entrance of Lens stuff, and all his food is still in bags in my freezer and laundry room, Do I need to deal with the over whelming perfume of death flowers. I try to please and take the sprays apart and arrange the flowers in vases, I toss ribbons that say “Uncle, Brother, Son” in the garbage and in the compost goes the big puffy white flowers and gladiolas.
I used to wonder where the tradition came from to have flowers at a funeral, it seems like such a waste of money. But after standing by Lens casket, I now know. At first I didn’t notice the smell, but the longer I stood by the casket the stronger it got. I can remember thinking at first what is that smell? Then realizing that the scent from the flowers was there to try to mask the smell of death. Let me just say it doesn’t work and I don’t think it is a smell I will ever forget.
My husband starts asking me where do I want all of Lens boxes put. I look at him, I can’t make my mind think, and again he is asking me. Finally I say, “I don’t care in the basement I guess”. I don’t want to be the wife, mom, daughter or sister, at this point it is even to much to be anyone’s friend. I don’t want to make decisions, I don’t want to think I stand by the window and watch the world.
Everywhere I look I see flowers every room has bouquets of flowers. How I hate them, I didn’t want them coming home with us, I begged people to take them, but looks like my house is a funeral home. My husband doesn’t get ‘it’ when I start tossing all the bouquets, and sprays of flowers. He looks at me and keeps saying “but you like flowers, there just flowers what’s the difference”? I know I like flowers but not these ones, its bad enough that we have boxes in the entrance of Lens stuff, and all his food is still in bags in my freezer and laundry room, Do I need to deal with the over whelming perfume of death flowers. I try to please and take the sprays apart and arrange the flowers in vases, I toss ribbons that say “Uncle, Brother, Son” in the garbage and in the compost goes the big puffy white flowers and gladiolas.
I used to wonder where the tradition came from to have flowers at a funeral, it seems like such a waste of money. But after standing by Lens casket, I now know. At first I didn’t notice the smell, but the longer I stood by the casket the stronger it got. I can remember thinking at first what is that smell? Then realizing that the scent from the flowers was there to try to mask the smell of death. Let me just say it doesn’t work and I don’t think it is a smell I will ever forget.
My husband starts asking me where do I want all of Lens boxes put. I look at him, I can’t make my mind think, and again he is asking me. Finally I say, “I don’t care in the basement I guess”. I don’t want to be the wife, mom, daughter or sister, at this point it is even to much to be anyone’s friend. I don’t want to make decisions, I don’t want to think I stand by the window and watch the world.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Stuff, Stuff and More Stuff
There are times when I write and I can bang a blog off in minutes but those times are not the norm. Usually it can take me a day or two and in this case I have been working on this story for a couple of weeks. I find when I am trying to write about something painful I need to take a break every few lines and walk around the house to collect my thoughts or maybe cause it is tough and my instinct to run and hide is even stronger. This time though when I do my walk through the house and tidy as I go or touch stuff it just makes the pain worse. At times I wonder why we as North Americans are so consumed with accumulating more and more stuff. I think my family has just way too much stuff. There is stuff everywhere and as much as I try to declutter, whenever I turn around it feels like we have accumulated more and more.
After Len’s funeral my brother Chris and sister Kerry stayed with us for a few more days to help out. We all knew they really wanted to get back on the planes that brought them here and go back to their lives but they sucked it up and stayed. I am forever thankful they didn’t just leave and were here to help with the cleaning out of Lens home, dismantling his life.
We arrived early in the day, at Len’s home and spent some time with pleasantries with our Parents. It wasn’t till our parents left to go out for lunch (I think to really just get away from what we needed to do) that we were able to get down to the task at hand. It is a very strange feeling going through another person’s life and making split decisions on what has value or what to toss. I have heard stories of parents or spouses who after years, still have there loved ones clothes in closets. I guess it is different when you are still living in the same home, you don’t have this pressing need to put closure to the situation because of finances. We spent hours going through each room making piles, what to keep, what to donate and what to toss. I remember doing Len’s laundry and then thinking why? Its not like any of us are going to sleep in his bed or use his sheets. But for some reason it was important to me that I washed everything before I threw it out, crazy I know.
By the end of the day we had taken a truckload to the dump, two truck loads to a charity resale store and we had a truckload that was to go to family members. Though we tried to clean out as much as possible and we didn’t really want anything, all of Lens furniture stayed. My father wanted all of it and kept insisting most of it was his anyway. We questioned how that could be, as I had receipts from stores of stuff Len had just bought before he went on vacation. We didn’t want to argue with him if it was so important that he have just about everything then fine we had our memories and knew we could talk about Len with each other when ever we felt like it. Everyone handles their grief differently so I guess for some they need to surround themselves with stuff. I have never lost a child so it is best for me not to judge. But let me just say it was very difficult for me to keep my mouth shut and my temper under control that day.
By the end of the day when we left we had loaded up the truck with bits and pieces of stuff including groceries. It appeared that Len had just gone grocery shopping before he left for vacation as he had a freezer full of meat and cupboards full of dry goods. We filled about 4 large bags, I figured my family would use it. On our drive home the three of us made a vow that when we got home we were going to go through all our stuff and have a major clean out. We didn’t want anyone to have to sort through all of our personal stuff once we were gone.
I remember lying in bed that night going over the day’s events. And thinking just how sad I was and how sad that 38 years of life can be cleaned out in a days work. We spend our whole lives accumulating stuff. We save our money for things, we are a society of shoppers. We can’t even have one day a week without shopping, we need to buy, buy, buy. Only to have after we die, others pass judgment on its value and toss it in one of three piles.
After Len’s funeral my brother Chris and sister Kerry stayed with us for a few more days to help out. We all knew they really wanted to get back on the planes that brought them here and go back to their lives but they sucked it up and stayed. I am forever thankful they didn’t just leave and were here to help with the cleaning out of Lens home, dismantling his life.
We arrived early in the day, at Len’s home and spent some time with pleasantries with our Parents. It wasn’t till our parents left to go out for lunch (I think to really just get away from what we needed to do) that we were able to get down to the task at hand. It is a very strange feeling going through another person’s life and making split decisions on what has value or what to toss. I have heard stories of parents or spouses who after years, still have there loved ones clothes in closets. I guess it is different when you are still living in the same home, you don’t have this pressing need to put closure to the situation because of finances. We spent hours going through each room making piles, what to keep, what to donate and what to toss. I remember doing Len’s laundry and then thinking why? Its not like any of us are going to sleep in his bed or use his sheets. But for some reason it was important to me that I washed everything before I threw it out, crazy I know.
By the end of the day we had taken a truckload to the dump, two truck loads to a charity resale store and we had a truckload that was to go to family members. Though we tried to clean out as much as possible and we didn’t really want anything, all of Lens furniture stayed. My father wanted all of it and kept insisting most of it was his anyway. We questioned how that could be, as I had receipts from stores of stuff Len had just bought before he went on vacation. We didn’t want to argue with him if it was so important that he have just about everything then fine we had our memories and knew we could talk about Len with each other when ever we felt like it. Everyone handles their grief differently so I guess for some they need to surround themselves with stuff. I have never lost a child so it is best for me not to judge. But let me just say it was very difficult for me to keep my mouth shut and my temper under control that day.
By the end of the day when we left we had loaded up the truck with bits and pieces of stuff including groceries. It appeared that Len had just gone grocery shopping before he left for vacation as he had a freezer full of meat and cupboards full of dry goods. We filled about 4 large bags, I figured my family would use it. On our drive home the three of us made a vow that when we got home we were going to go through all our stuff and have a major clean out. We didn’t want anyone to have to sort through all of our personal stuff once we were gone.
I remember lying in bed that night going over the day’s events. And thinking just how sad I was and how sad that 38 years of life can be cleaned out in a days work. We spend our whole lives accumulating stuff. We save our money for things, we are a society of shoppers. We can’t even have one day a week without shopping, we need to buy, buy, buy. Only to have after we die, others pass judgment on its value and toss it in one of three piles.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
What Happened?
What you are about to read is the story told to us of the last few minutes before Len died and what happened shortly after Len died.
Len and his fellow scuba diving friends were on the boat having breakfast. It was a beautiful day and they were on a boat, out on the Belizean waters, the group sitting around the table were making plans for their first dive. Some of the guests complained they felt the breakfast sausage was a little too spicy, but Len said he liked it. He then mentioned to the person beside him that he had a little heartburn and others said it was from the spicy sausage and everyone laughed. Someone passed a few antacids down to Len and he put them in his mouth. Len picked up his glass of milk to help wash the pills down. At that moment while the glass was in his hand he collapsed forward. All of the guests were shocked at first but then quickly realized the gravity of the situation and started CPR. Fortunately a nurse was one of the guests and she helped to arrange the call out to other boats in the area and called to get medical help for when they arrived back to land. A fishing boat heard the call and came to help as it could travel back to shore quicker then any other boat around. Len was brought to shore where medical personal were waiting as well as personal from the Canadian Consult.
Len died instantly while on the boat and was already dead by the time he was brought to shore. His body was then transferred to Guatemala as that was the closest coroners office. The friends, Len had on board tried to gather up all of his personal belongings and luggage, they had hoped to bring the luggage home with them and return it to my father as they knew him from other scuba diving trips. But the Canadian Consult said “no” and took charge of Lens luggage and passport. It would be months later and then it was only after paying over $400.00 and arguing with Canadian Customs that my brother Chris and I were aloud to take his luggage home. As you can imagine the group of scuba diving friends were devastated and discussed canceling their trip. I am glad they didn’t cut their trip short and tried to salvage what they could of their vacation.
My mother, siblings and myself stood around this stranger as he told us the last moments of Len’s life. Because we never saw the body I think it helped to put some closure on the situation. Now that I look back I can’t tell you what the man’s name was or even what he looked like, but I thank him for coming to Len’s funeral and was willing to share Len’s last moments of life with us. I sometimes think if only things where different maybe Len wouldn’t of died. If he were home would medical help have been able to arrive more quickly? But I am a realist and I know I can’t change anything and there is no point living in a world of ‘what ifs’ so I am grateful that he was doing something he loved, he was with people he liked and was enjoying himself. And as selfish as this might sound I am thankful it was instant for him, there was no pain, no fear, it might be harder for us who are still living because we couldn’t say goodbye to the physical Len. But I am able to remember his life and because of that, it is somewhat bearable to say goodbye to his spirit.
Len and his fellow scuba diving friends were on the boat having breakfast. It was a beautiful day and they were on a boat, out on the Belizean waters, the group sitting around the table were making plans for their first dive. Some of the guests complained they felt the breakfast sausage was a little too spicy, but Len said he liked it. He then mentioned to the person beside him that he had a little heartburn and others said it was from the spicy sausage and everyone laughed. Someone passed a few antacids down to Len and he put them in his mouth. Len picked up his glass of milk to help wash the pills down. At that moment while the glass was in his hand he collapsed forward. All of the guests were shocked at first but then quickly realized the gravity of the situation and started CPR. Fortunately a nurse was one of the guests and she helped to arrange the call out to other boats in the area and called to get medical help for when they arrived back to land. A fishing boat heard the call and came to help as it could travel back to shore quicker then any other boat around. Len was brought to shore where medical personal were waiting as well as personal from the Canadian Consult.
Len died instantly while on the boat and was already dead by the time he was brought to shore. His body was then transferred to Guatemala as that was the closest coroners office. The friends, Len had on board tried to gather up all of his personal belongings and luggage, they had hoped to bring the luggage home with them and return it to my father as they knew him from other scuba diving trips. But the Canadian Consult said “no” and took charge of Lens luggage and passport. It would be months later and then it was only after paying over $400.00 and arguing with Canadian Customs that my brother Chris and I were aloud to take his luggage home. As you can imagine the group of scuba diving friends were devastated and discussed canceling their trip. I am glad they didn’t cut their trip short and tried to salvage what they could of their vacation.
My mother, siblings and myself stood around this stranger as he told us the last moments of Len’s life. Because we never saw the body I think it helped to put some closure on the situation. Now that I look back I can’t tell you what the man’s name was or even what he looked like, but I thank him for coming to Len’s funeral and was willing to share Len’s last moments of life with us. I sometimes think if only things where different maybe Len wouldn’t of died. If he were home would medical help have been able to arrive more quickly? But I am a realist and I know I can’t change anything and there is no point living in a world of ‘what ifs’ so I am grateful that he was doing something he loved, he was with people he liked and was enjoying himself. And as selfish as this might sound I am thankful it was instant for him, there was no pain, no fear, it might be harder for us who are still living because we couldn’t say goodbye to the physical Len. But I am able to remember his life and because of that, it is somewhat bearable to say goodbye to his spirit.
Monday, May 11, 2009
It's Show Time
It is now 10 days since Len’s death and today is funeral day. We have arrived at the funeral home and most of my extended family is already there. I take a quick look around at all the people and quickly put my game face on. I will be completely in charge of my emotions, I will be strong for mother and children, and I will get through this day with my dignity in tact. My mother has spotted me and is making a beeline to me. I try to put a smile on my face and stiffen up as she wraps her arms around me, she is trying to tell me something through her tears and I am not sure just what she is saying. She starts to pull me towards the chapel where we will have the actual service and I am not wanting to go. I would rather not go in there till I absolutely have to but there seems to be no stopping her.
We step into the chapel and she points to the front and at first all I can see is flowers. Bouquet after bouquet, there are flowers everywhere, they really are beautiful. But my mom is persistent and keeps pointing to the middle of the flowers and then I see it. There amongst the flowers is a casket, it is beautiful, deep mahogany finish with silver fittings. It has smooth lines and is beveled at the ends, it reminds me of a car. The first words out of my mouth are “whose casket is it”? She looks at me kind of funny then says “it’s Len”. I look at her and it still is not registering for me and I say, “What do you mean its Len”. My mother smiles and tells me “Len arrived late last night”. When I question the casket she again smiles and says this is just how he arrived. I am speechless and can feel the tears starting to flow. If there is such a thing as a beautiful casket then this is the most beautiful of all.
I stand beside the casket and it finally hits me that Len is here, this is all real, he really has died and we I will never see him again. For the past 10 days I have wanted this day to arrive so we could put closure on everything but now that it’s here I have to face the fact that Len is DEAD. His last words to me the day before he left for vacation were “we will get together for dinner when I get back and I have arranged for Dawn to drop the pumpkins at your front door for the girls Halloween”.
A young woman from the funeral home comes up to me and introduces herself as Shannon, she will be my funeral coordinator for the day. I ask where Brad is, hoping we didn’t get him fired, Shannon assures me that it’s just his day off. We start to get people into the chapel and settled. My mom, brother, sister and my family are sitting in the front row together. My father and his sister and husband are opposite us. We make eye contact and give weak smiles. My mom’s oldest brother has agreed to make the introductions and keep things flowing during the service. Some music starts and the entire front row start crying, I look to my husband, he is taking care of our children. My brother and sister are sitting with their arms around my mom, the three of them are sobbing. I sit there feeling very alone and think I want to get out of here, if I stay any longer I won’t be able to get up in front of all these people and say the eulogy. I notice on the right of our pew an alcove; I get up and walk in there and pull myself together.
In the alcove I find Shannon, she gives me a smile. I use this opportunity to ask her a question that my sister has been asking. “Did anyone from the funeral home open the casket and check that it is really Len” Shannon tell’s me “Yes, we checked and made confirmation with the photo’s you have set up”. By this time my uncle is introducing me and I take a deep breath and walk out to the podium. I look at all the people who have come there is well over 100 and people are standing around the back walls. I then look at my brother and sister expecting them to get up and stand beside me. But neither one of them is making eye contact with me. I take a few deep breaths and start to talk, I have tried to memorize the eulogy but still find I need to refer to my printed sheets. As I am speaking to the mourners, in my mind all I can hear is "speak slowly, speak slowly". Before you know it I am done and once again look at my siblings thinking, “you didn’t come up with me, you didn’t have my back like you said you would”.
For the most part the rest of the service is a blur, except one person. I can’t at this time remember their name but they were part of the scuba diving team and on the boat with Len when he died. This man wants to talk to us and tell us what happened. I need to hear his story, as he was the last person to be with Len while he was alive.
We step into the chapel and she points to the front and at first all I can see is flowers. Bouquet after bouquet, there are flowers everywhere, they really are beautiful. But my mom is persistent and keeps pointing to the middle of the flowers and then I see it. There amongst the flowers is a casket, it is beautiful, deep mahogany finish with silver fittings. It has smooth lines and is beveled at the ends, it reminds me of a car. The first words out of my mouth are “whose casket is it”? She looks at me kind of funny then says “it’s Len”. I look at her and it still is not registering for me and I say, “What do you mean its Len”. My mother smiles and tells me “Len arrived late last night”. When I question the casket she again smiles and says this is just how he arrived. I am speechless and can feel the tears starting to flow. If there is such a thing as a beautiful casket then this is the most beautiful of all.
I stand beside the casket and it finally hits me that Len is here, this is all real, he really has died and we I will never see him again. For the past 10 days I have wanted this day to arrive so we could put closure on everything but now that it’s here I have to face the fact that Len is DEAD. His last words to me the day before he left for vacation were “we will get together for dinner when I get back and I have arranged for Dawn to drop the pumpkins at your front door for the girls Halloween”.
A young woman from the funeral home comes up to me and introduces herself as Shannon, she will be my funeral coordinator for the day. I ask where Brad is, hoping we didn’t get him fired, Shannon assures me that it’s just his day off. We start to get people into the chapel and settled. My mom, brother, sister and my family are sitting in the front row together. My father and his sister and husband are opposite us. We make eye contact and give weak smiles. My mom’s oldest brother has agreed to make the introductions and keep things flowing during the service. Some music starts and the entire front row start crying, I look to my husband, he is taking care of our children. My brother and sister are sitting with their arms around my mom, the three of them are sobbing. I sit there feeling very alone and think I want to get out of here, if I stay any longer I won’t be able to get up in front of all these people and say the eulogy. I notice on the right of our pew an alcove; I get up and walk in there and pull myself together.
In the alcove I find Shannon, she gives me a smile. I use this opportunity to ask her a question that my sister has been asking. “Did anyone from the funeral home open the casket and check that it is really Len” Shannon tell’s me “Yes, we checked and made confirmation with the photo’s you have set up”. By this time my uncle is introducing me and I take a deep breath and walk out to the podium. I look at all the people who have come there is well over 100 and people are standing around the back walls. I then look at my brother and sister expecting them to get up and stand beside me. But neither one of them is making eye contact with me. I take a few deep breaths and start to talk, I have tried to memorize the eulogy but still find I need to refer to my printed sheets. As I am speaking to the mourners, in my mind all I can hear is "speak slowly, speak slowly". Before you know it I am done and once again look at my siblings thinking, “you didn’t come up with me, you didn’t have my back like you said you would”.
For the most part the rest of the service is a blur, except one person. I can’t at this time remember their name but they were part of the scuba diving team and on the boat with Len when he died. This man wants to talk to us and tell us what happened. I need to hear his story, as he was the last person to be with Len while he was alive.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Writing A Eulogy
It’s 11:30 at night, I am sitting in my bed with a glass of wine and the computer on my lap. I guess that’s why it is called a laptop. I need to come up with a eulogy for Len’s funeral. I have never written one before, the only thing I have written is notes to the teacher and even then my kids have always needed to translate them.
Why, did I agree to this, this is what I get for wanting to have control and keep the planning within the immediate family? I start to write the usual stories of Len, stories from our past, but the problem I have is I don’t remember much and really why do they need my memories when they have their own of Len.
So I start again this time I try with a bullet form list of characteristics of Len, but again its just not working for me. I get frustrated and decide to put it off till tomorrow. I turn off the computer and close the lights. While I am lying in bed just about to fall asleep it comes to me, I think I know what to write. In my usual procrastination I decide to write it tomorrow. I soon realize I must write it now, because I will probably forget the thought tomorrow. So up I get and I turn on the lights and boot up the computer.
Writing a eulogy can be a tricky thing and I tried to make it personal but not too sappy. I tried to get what I felt out but I also was trying very hard not to cause a big crying fest (for the mourners or myself). I wasn’t to worried cause if I couldn’t pull off the eulogy, I knew that my siblings would be standing alongside me, and they would step in where ever needed. They told me numerous times, “not to worry we got your back”.
I have the first draft written and I asked Kerry and Chris to each read it and make suggestions so that we were all comfortable with what I wrote. I was feeling more confident that what we wrote was good and we could pull this off together. I am actually feeling a little excited and nervous at the same time, as I have never talked in front of a crowd before.
Why, did I agree to this, this is what I get for wanting to have control and keep the planning within the immediate family? I start to write the usual stories of Len, stories from our past, but the problem I have is I don’t remember much and really why do they need my memories when they have their own of Len.
So I start again this time I try with a bullet form list of characteristics of Len, but again its just not working for me. I get frustrated and decide to put it off till tomorrow. I turn off the computer and close the lights. While I am lying in bed just about to fall asleep it comes to me, I think I know what to write. In my usual procrastination I decide to write it tomorrow. I soon realize I must write it now, because I will probably forget the thought tomorrow. So up I get and I turn on the lights and boot up the computer.
Writing a eulogy can be a tricky thing and I tried to make it personal but not too sappy. I tried to get what I felt out but I also was trying very hard not to cause a big crying fest (for the mourners or myself). I wasn’t to worried cause if I couldn’t pull off the eulogy, I knew that my siblings would be standing alongside me, and they would step in where ever needed. They told me numerous times, “not to worry we got your back”.
I have the first draft written and I asked Kerry and Chris to each read it and make suggestions so that we were all comfortable with what I wrote. I was feeling more confident that what we wrote was good and we could pull this off together. I am actually feeling a little excited and nervous at the same time, as I have never talked in front of a crowd before.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
When No means Yes
When we make a meal for a family who is in need, not only does it help them, but it also gives us a tremendous sense of Gods love. There are times in people’s lives when we just don’t have the words to express how much we love them or how deep our sorrow is for them. But we can make them a dinner so that there is have one last thing a woman needs to deal with. I have cooked many a meal for families in many different situations, and I always know that this is exactly what God wants me to do.
So with that in mind just after Len died, the head of our church meals mission called and asked if and when we would like a meal delivered. Now she didn’t call once or twice she was very persistent and called everyday for almost a week. And for some crazy reason I kept saying “No thank you”. It got to the point where my husband got a little angry and said “why are you refusing help, you cook for other’s all the time”? I came up with stupid excuses like “What about our daughter’s allergies” and “there is food in the freezer”, and my most famous excuse “I don’t know”. Fortunately for my family there were some friends who know me just to well and made us meals anyway and I will be forever grateful to them.
Now that I can look back at that time with a more rational mindset, I can see that I had so much going on, my mind was in overdrive that I could not make any more decisions. Even something as simple as Yes, we would love a meal”. Because I new that simple “yes” would lead to more questions, like “what would we like”, when would we like it, and what is your address”? And it was too much work for me to make those decisions and was easier to say “no”.
I was given a book by a parent of a child I taught at church, the book is called Grieving the Loss of Someone You Love. Now to be honest at the time she gave me this book I did not open it, I barely read the card she wrote with it. I put them both on my bedside end table and there they sat for over a year. Then one night I decided to give it a read and opened it to a random page. What I read was as if the authors had been in my heart during that awful period. But the book went on to explain that by refusing the help being offered I was in essence denying those women the opportunity to share God’s love in the most practical way they knew how. We are all familiar with the words “it is better to give then receive”, I have used this phrase often while trying to guilt one of my kids into giving something to their sibling. I though, had never really taken the time to let that phrase really take hold of my heart. I try to imagine what my world would be like if I let my guard down and accepted God’s love from others.
So with that in mind just after Len died, the head of our church meals mission called and asked if and when we would like a meal delivered. Now she didn’t call once or twice she was very persistent and called everyday for almost a week. And for some crazy reason I kept saying “No thank you”. It got to the point where my husband got a little angry and said “why are you refusing help, you cook for other’s all the time”? I came up with stupid excuses like “What about our daughter’s allergies” and “there is food in the freezer”, and my most famous excuse “I don’t know”. Fortunately for my family there were some friends who know me just to well and made us meals anyway and I will be forever grateful to them.
Now that I can look back at that time with a more rational mindset, I can see that I had so much going on, my mind was in overdrive that I could not make any more decisions. Even something as simple as Yes, we would love a meal”. Because I new that simple “yes” would lead to more questions, like “what would we like”, when would we like it, and what is your address”? And it was too much work for me to make those decisions and was easier to say “no”.
I was given a book by a parent of a child I taught at church, the book is called Grieving the Loss of Someone You Love. Now to be honest at the time she gave me this book I did not open it, I barely read the card she wrote with it. I put them both on my bedside end table and there they sat for over a year. Then one night I decided to give it a read and opened it to a random page. What I read was as if the authors had been in my heart during that awful period. But the book went on to explain that by refusing the help being offered I was in essence denying those women the opportunity to share God’s love in the most practical way they knew how. We are all familiar with the words “it is better to give then receive”, I have used this phrase often while trying to guilt one of my kids into giving something to their sibling. I though, had never really taken the time to let that phrase really take hold of my heart. I try to imagine what my world would be like if I let my guard down and accepted God’s love from others.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Where’s Mike Holmes when you need him?
Before I have a chance to cross casket off my ‘To Do’ list my brother asks a simple question. “How big is the casket cause Len was a big guy”?
Brad looks at us and says, “Well it is for a average size person. How big was Len?”
“Len is a really big guy” Chris replies again.
“In that case then this casket will not do, you will have to order the oversized one” said Brad.
“OK, then lets order that,” I say thinking we are on a roll here lets not lose the momentum.
Brad proceeds to pull out a larger sized brochure from his files. We don’t even look at the pictures we just request the simplest and cheapest box. Brad tells us as delicately as he can that there is a slight difference in price from the regular to the oversized. We look at him expectantly while he clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “An oversized, plain box casket will cost us $2000.00!”
In her ‘I am mother' voice my mom points her finger at us and says “One of you go build a casket. How hard can it be just slap some boards together?”
My sister Kerry replies, “Mom, the only one of your children who can build a casket is the one who is going to be in it!
By this time I think I am starting to lose it, and say” fine we will just squish him in the regular sized casket and I will sit on the top while Chris nails the lid on.”
It was after this comment that our trusty personal funeral coordinator Brad loses his decorum and burst into hysterical laughter. We look at him somewhat shocked and then realize just how ridiculous we all must sound to him. It seems laughter is not something a funeral home is used to hearing as staff come running from all parts of the building to see what is going on in the reception room. At this moment Brad must of noticed he crossed the funeral coordinator line and quickly puts his suit jacket back on and tries to gather up his professionalism.
I figure we have caused enough trouble for Brad and make a suggestion that we better go before we get him fired. We inform Brad that when Len is found we will make a decision about what type of box to put him in. But regardless if Len makes it or not we are having the funeral in two days.
Brad looks at us and says, “Well it is for a average size person. How big was Len?”
“Len is a really big guy” Chris replies again.
“In that case then this casket will not do, you will have to order the oversized one” said Brad.
“OK, then lets order that,” I say thinking we are on a roll here lets not lose the momentum.
Brad proceeds to pull out a larger sized brochure from his files. We don’t even look at the pictures we just request the simplest and cheapest box. Brad tells us as delicately as he can that there is a slight difference in price from the regular to the oversized. We look at him expectantly while he clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “An oversized, plain box casket will cost us $2000.00!”
In her ‘I am mother' voice my mom points her finger at us and says “One of you go build a casket. How hard can it be just slap some boards together?”
My sister Kerry replies, “Mom, the only one of your children who can build a casket is the one who is going to be in it!
By this time I think I am starting to lose it, and say” fine we will just squish him in the regular sized casket and I will sit on the top while Chris nails the lid on.”
It was after this comment that our trusty personal funeral coordinator Brad loses his decorum and burst into hysterical laughter. We look at him somewhat shocked and then realize just how ridiculous we all must sound to him. It seems laughter is not something a funeral home is used to hearing as staff come running from all parts of the building to see what is going on in the reception room. At this moment Brad must of noticed he crossed the funeral coordinator line and quickly puts his suit jacket back on and tries to gather up his professionalism.
I figure we have caused enough trouble for Brad and make a suggestion that we better go before we get him fired. We inform Brad that when Len is found we will make a decision about what type of box to put him in. But regardless if Len makes it or not we are having the funeral in two days.
Friday, May 1, 2009
The Casket Catalogue
Brad our trusty “Personal Funeral Coordinator” returns with the catalogue. Well let’s just say I was expecting a little tri-fold colour brochure, not the massive wedding size album, that he two-handedly dropped on the table. I looked at the album then back at Brad thinking to myself “is he about to show us his "Scrapbooking Memories" of some of his best, past funerals, while we wait for his helper to find the casket brochures”.
Brad is totally in his element now, the suit jacket comes off and he has us all arranged so we can see the “Catalogue”. He lovingly turns each page, he talks about the style of caskets, the satin liners, brass fittings, types of wood, and the latest “in” colours. Brad points out the sleek lines of this one and aerodynamics’ of that one. There is a glint in his eye and his voice takes on a hushed tone as he draws our attention to the casket with the silver fittings and has us pay special attention to the way the fittings compliment the patina of the hand carved wood frame. We sit there stunned and for once speechless. All I can think of is “Len should be here he would love this, only he would appreciate the aerodynamics and silver fittings of his final resting place. Who knew that even in death it’s important to look your designer best! I finally find my voice and gather up the nerve to ask Brad the cost of one of these exquisite gems.
Brad leans in closer and in a whispers voice tells us the price. Well let me just say we found our voice and I am ashamed to say that what came out of our mouths was not what a God fearing family should say. “Are you @&*$%&# out of your mind” was yelled by all. Poor Brad he was so taken back by our outburst he wasn’t sure what to do next. We all start talking at once “why would anyone pay all that money just to put it in an incinerator and burn it up”. “We don’t need the casket just toss Len over your shoulder and throw him in the incinerator. “Why don’t we wrap Len in the fabric Mom wants to buy, you know like a mummy.” Poor Brad, he looks at all of us and it is his turn to be speechless.
I ask Brad if there is anything cheaper. “No satin liners, no brass fittings, no sleek lines or aerodynamics, just a simple wooden box”. Brad dejectedly nods his head and pulls out the little tri-fold colour brochure. None of us look at the pictures we just ask for prices, Brad tells us the cheapest one is $300.00, unanimously we shout sold!
Brad is totally in his element now, the suit jacket comes off and he has us all arranged so we can see the “Catalogue”. He lovingly turns each page, he talks about the style of caskets, the satin liners, brass fittings, types of wood, and the latest “in” colours. Brad points out the sleek lines of this one and aerodynamics’ of that one. There is a glint in his eye and his voice takes on a hushed tone as he draws our attention to the casket with the silver fittings and has us pay special attention to the way the fittings compliment the patina of the hand carved wood frame. We sit there stunned and for once speechless. All I can think of is “Len should be here he would love this, only he would appreciate the aerodynamics and silver fittings of his final resting place. Who knew that even in death it’s important to look your designer best! I finally find my voice and gather up the nerve to ask Brad the cost of one of these exquisite gems.
Brad leans in closer and in a whispers voice tells us the price. Well let me just say we found our voice and I am ashamed to say that what came out of our mouths was not what a God fearing family should say. “Are you @&*$%&# out of your mind” was yelled by all. Poor Brad he was so taken back by our outburst he wasn’t sure what to do next. We all start talking at once “why would anyone pay all that money just to put it in an incinerator and burn it up”. “We don’t need the casket just toss Len over your shoulder and throw him in the incinerator. “Why don’t we wrap Len in the fabric Mom wants to buy, you know like a mummy.” Poor Brad, he looks at all of us and it is his turn to be speechless.
I ask Brad if there is anything cheaper. “No satin liners, no brass fittings, no sleek lines or aerodynamics, just a simple wooden box”. Brad dejectedly nods his head and pulls out the little tri-fold colour brochure. None of us look at the pictures we just ask for prices, Brad tells us the cheapest one is $300.00, unanimously we shout sold!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Planning a Funeral
I have never planned a funeral before but I have planned a few weddings in my time. When you get right down to it, they’re not all that different planning wise. You need:
Alcohol
Venue
Guest of honor (not always necessary!)
Flowers
Food
Guests
Pictures
New Clothes
Alcohol (did I say that already!)
The only difference I can see between the two is the speed in which we execute the plan. Weddings take on average 18 months to organize while I can plan a funeral in 36 hours! I am a list maker by nature so as usual I have my spiral notepad chock full of “To Do’s”.
On our list today is to head to the funeral home and make some final decisions and of course find out if anyone has found Len.
At the funeral home we meet with Brad our personal funeral coordinator. He takes us to the main reception area and he appears to be a little nervous. Guess he’s unsure how we are going to handle the whole “Len is lost” thing. We all assure Brad we don’t blame him for losing our brother, these things happen, or do they? We all sit down and get down to business, we confirm the day of the funeral and discuss how the reception will be organized. Brad asks us how many people do we expect to come. We all look at each other trying to do a quick count and come up with a number of 60 or 70 people.
After a little bit more of this and that, Brad brings up the subject of a casket. In the event that Len is found and brought home we need to have a casket. First we make plans with the assumption that Len won’t be here on time. My mother goes on and on about “buying fabric and sewing something and adding candles and Lens picture with lots of flowers”. Us three siblings look at each other and smile and just let her ramble. Realistically who is going to buy this fabric and sew, and get candles, and have pictures framed, she is in no shape to do anything. Brad mentions to us that we still need to pick out a casket as in most cases when the body is shipped home it is in a cardboard casket. Me, ever the practical one says “we use the cardboard casket and put Mom’s fabric over it”. “NO” says Brad “that is not an option as at this point we have to assume the body and box have been sitting out on a tarmac in the Guatemala heat for who knows how many days”. Everyone is quiet as this not so pretty picture takes form. Brad leaves us at this point to get the casket catalogue, I take this opportunity to mention to everyone that “I don’t think seeing Len is an option now”. My Mom just nods her head, she is trying very hard to keep it all together.
I look around at this family of mine and can see we are all on the edge of uncontrollable emotion. I look at my siblings and think I don’t really know these people. Miles do not only separate us but our day-to-day worlds are so vastly different. For my sister and I there is some history, she and I grew up together, we have memories of Len growing up. But for my youngest brother and I, there is more then 18 years between us, we don’t share childhood memories, we never even lived under the same roof. I think, for him growing up, I was more like is his Aunt then his Sister. And when I think about it how well did we really know Len?
Alcohol
Venue
Guest of honor (not always necessary!)
Flowers
Food
Guests
Pictures
New Clothes
Alcohol (did I say that already!)
The only difference I can see between the two is the speed in which we execute the plan. Weddings take on average 18 months to organize while I can plan a funeral in 36 hours! I am a list maker by nature so as usual I have my spiral notepad chock full of “To Do’s”.
On our list today is to head to the funeral home and make some final decisions and of course find out if anyone has found Len.
At the funeral home we meet with Brad our personal funeral coordinator. He takes us to the main reception area and he appears to be a little nervous. Guess he’s unsure how we are going to handle the whole “Len is lost” thing. We all assure Brad we don’t blame him for losing our brother, these things happen, or do they? We all sit down and get down to business, we confirm the day of the funeral and discuss how the reception will be organized. Brad asks us how many people do we expect to come. We all look at each other trying to do a quick count and come up with a number of 60 or 70 people.
After a little bit more of this and that, Brad brings up the subject of a casket. In the event that Len is found and brought home we need to have a casket. First we make plans with the assumption that Len won’t be here on time. My mother goes on and on about “buying fabric and sewing something and adding candles and Lens picture with lots of flowers”. Us three siblings look at each other and smile and just let her ramble. Realistically who is going to buy this fabric and sew, and get candles, and have pictures framed, she is in no shape to do anything. Brad mentions to us that we still need to pick out a casket as in most cases when the body is shipped home it is in a cardboard casket. Me, ever the practical one says “we use the cardboard casket and put Mom’s fabric over it”. “NO” says Brad “that is not an option as at this point we have to assume the body and box have been sitting out on a tarmac in the Guatemala heat for who knows how many days”. Everyone is quiet as this not so pretty picture takes form. Brad leaves us at this point to get the casket catalogue, I take this opportunity to mention to everyone that “I don’t think seeing Len is an option now”. My Mom just nods her head, she is trying very hard to keep it all together.
I look around at this family of mine and can see we are all on the edge of uncontrollable emotion. I look at my siblings and think I don’t really know these people. Miles do not only separate us but our day-to-day worlds are so vastly different. For my sister and I there is some history, she and I grew up together, we have memories of Len growing up. But for my youngest brother and I, there is more then 18 years between us, we don’t share childhood memories, we never even lived under the same roof. I think, for him growing up, I was more like is his Aunt then his Sister. And when I think about it how well did we really know Len?
Monday, April 20, 2009
We are all together (well sort of)
Our memory can be a tricky thing; we don’t seem to have any control on what our brains choose to keep stored and what it lets go of. When I remember the time before Len’s funeral, my first memory of my siblings being home is our Mom and the three of us sitting at my kitchen table and laughing. I can’t remember who picked them up at the airport or exactly when they arrived at my place. When I really try to remember all that happened during that week, what I recall the most is laughter. When I say laughter I mean roll on the floor, hold your sides, milk out the nose laughter.
As I was saying the four of us are at the table, talking about what ?? I have no idea but more then likely Len. The phone rings and we all look at each other cause this is a good thing. It means that Len’s body has finally arrived home. And now we can finally get the funeral details arranged. We all have ideas for the funeral and through it all we are trying very hard to respect what we think Len would have wanted. It is hard because we know how much Len hated funerals. To the point that Len and I would argue about his refusal to attend anybody’s funeral. I would try to convince him go for the family. But nothing worked and he never went to anyone’s funeral. So when the phone rings I am thinking all right I win, he’s going to this funeral! My Mom is looking hopeful as the phone rings as she really wants to see him one more time and say goodbye.
I answer the phone and it is a good friend of my father’s, she is very upset and at first I am not sure just what she is talking about. I ask her to repeat what she is saying over and over till I can absorb it all. Finally I tell her I have to call her back. Everyone is looking at me, by this time my husband, kids and brothers girlfriend have all come into the kitchen looking at me expectantly. I take a deep breath and just go for it. “It seems the funeral home went to the airport to pick up Len as scheduled but there was some confusion. And for what ever reason Len was not on the plane”. My mother makes moaning sounds and everyone else is talking at once. “Where is he, what happened, how can they lose him, he’s a big guy?” I try to explain, at this point Guatemala says he went on the plane, the airlines paperwork says he is on the plane but when the plane landed there was no Len. In otherwards Len is LOST.
Now you would think in most families this type of situation would send someone over the edge so to speak. And for us we are not very different it is just that the edge we went over was uncontrollable laughter. The comments and wisecracks start to fly, “that boy is never on time for anything”, “wont even go to his own funeral for crying out loud”, “even dead and he won’t ask for directions”, “well enough is enough we will just have the funeral without him”. And we start serious funeral planning, he can come if he wants!
As I was saying the four of us are at the table, talking about what ?? I have no idea but more then likely Len. The phone rings and we all look at each other cause this is a good thing. It means that Len’s body has finally arrived home. And now we can finally get the funeral details arranged. We all have ideas for the funeral and through it all we are trying very hard to respect what we think Len would have wanted. It is hard because we know how much Len hated funerals. To the point that Len and I would argue about his refusal to attend anybody’s funeral. I would try to convince him go for the family. But nothing worked and he never went to anyone’s funeral. So when the phone rings I am thinking all right I win, he’s going to this funeral! My Mom is looking hopeful as the phone rings as she really wants to see him one more time and say goodbye.
I answer the phone and it is a good friend of my father’s, she is very upset and at first I am not sure just what she is talking about. I ask her to repeat what she is saying over and over till I can absorb it all. Finally I tell her I have to call her back. Everyone is looking at me, by this time my husband, kids and brothers girlfriend have all come into the kitchen looking at me expectantly. I take a deep breath and just go for it. “It seems the funeral home went to the airport to pick up Len as scheduled but there was some confusion. And for what ever reason Len was not on the plane”. My mother makes moaning sounds and everyone else is talking at once. “Where is he, what happened, how can they lose him, he’s a big guy?” I try to explain, at this point Guatemala says he went on the plane, the airlines paperwork says he is on the plane but when the plane landed there was no Len. In otherwards Len is LOST.
Now you would think in most families this type of situation would send someone over the edge so to speak. And for us we are not very different it is just that the edge we went over was uncontrollable laughter. The comments and wisecracks start to fly, “that boy is never on time for anything”, “wont even go to his own funeral for crying out loud”, “even dead and he won’t ask for directions”, “well enough is enough we will just have the funeral without him”. And we start serious funeral planning, he can come if he wants!
Saturday, April 11, 2009
The Weekend
The weekend has arrived, I usually look forward to this time, no work and just the family, stay up later, sleep in longer. Not this weekend though, it is early Saturday morning and I get myself ready to go pick up my Mom. We then start the hour and half drive to my brother’s house to meet up with my Dad. Something to keep in mind both Len and our father lived in the same house. Len was on the main floor my father lived below.
It is the first time I have seen my mom since the day of Len’s death. We have talked daily but it still comes as a shock, just how quickly she has diminished. She looks smaller, older and I feel this sense of protection. It is like we have reversed roles and I am the mother and she is the child. We talk about nothing important while driving there, she tells me what she ate that day. I nod and make confirmation sounds but really I just don’t care. I’m not really listening. I want this whole day to be over and done with and it’s only 10:00 am.
As we get closer to the house I can feel my anxiety level rising. I’m nervous to see my dad and be in the house surrounded by all of Lens stuff. Though my parents are on speaking terms and get along fairly well there is still over 30 year of divorce and many years were he was not there for us. I have maintained a relationship with my father over the past 15 years, but that has not been the case for my siblings or my mother. The relationship with Len and his father is only a few years old and has had moments of intense stress for both of them. As we ring the doorbell all I want is to find a sandbox and bury my head. I try to stand behind my mom but since she is now what appears to me to be half the size she was, that’s not really working so well.
The three of us are in the living room and I can sense that Dad is just as nervous with this whole thing. My mom wont sit down, looking, touching, and smelling Len everywhere. It’s killing me to watch this as I can only imagine what she is going through. I wonder if I would I be able to cope half as well if it was one of my children. Dad is looking lost and really not so sure just what to do. He’s making nervous chat, just filling up the air with words. I am only half listening, my mother is in her own world. Everything about this moment just sucks. What I would love right now is a drink, a big glass, some ice and a massive bottle of white wine would go down perfect.
It is the first time I have seen my mom since the day of Len’s death. We have talked daily but it still comes as a shock, just how quickly she has diminished. She looks smaller, older and I feel this sense of protection. It is like we have reversed roles and I am the mother and she is the child. We talk about nothing important while driving there, she tells me what she ate that day. I nod and make confirmation sounds but really I just don’t care. I’m not really listening. I want this whole day to be over and done with and it’s only 10:00 am.
As we get closer to the house I can feel my anxiety level rising. I’m nervous to see my dad and be in the house surrounded by all of Lens stuff. Though my parents are on speaking terms and get along fairly well there is still over 30 year of divorce and many years were he was not there for us. I have maintained a relationship with my father over the past 15 years, but that has not been the case for my siblings or my mother. The relationship with Len and his father is only a few years old and has had moments of intense stress for both of them. As we ring the doorbell all I want is to find a sandbox and bury my head. I try to stand behind my mom but since she is now what appears to me to be half the size she was, that’s not really working so well.
The three of us are in the living room and I can sense that Dad is just as nervous with this whole thing. My mom wont sit down, looking, touching, and smelling Len everywhere. It’s killing me to watch this as I can only imagine what she is going through. I wonder if I would I be able to cope half as well if it was one of my children. Dad is looking lost and really not so sure just what to do. He’s making nervous chat, just filling up the air with words. I am only half listening, my mother is in her own world. Everything about this moment just sucks. What I would love right now is a drink, a big glass, some ice and a massive bottle of white wine would go down perfect.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Day Three, four, five etc…
My memory is playing tricks on me and the next few days are a blur of phone calls and tentative arrangement. Both my siblings are calling regularly wanting to know when they should fly home. I keep putting them off till I have more information from FA (foreign affairs). I want them home, but somehow instinctively know I will need them more after the funeral then before.
The FA caseworker assigned to our situation has been wonderful and calls regularly with updates. But still not much is happening and he does try to explain we are dealing with a third world country and may never get full answers to our questions. The government’s priority is to get Len body home.
Our household returns to a somewhat state of normal, meals are made, kids are at school, we return to work, plans for Halloween are being made. For me as long as I stay busy I am fine. I find I don’t handle it well when people want to hug me and express their condolences but on the other hand if they don’t acknowledge my loss I am offended. It is a no win situation for all.
What I found the most frustrating during this time was trying to keep control on the situation. Why I felt I needed to be in control is beyond me but I was adamant that we keep a chain of command. Because I was dealing with the painful grief of both parents whom live two very different separate lives. It felt to me that both parents were getting advice from others who meant well but for me I really wanted these decisions made as a family without the outside influences. I was concerned that we handle the death and subsequent estate as private and legal as we could. I didn’t want anyone having hard feelings about what was going on or feeling like their voice was not heard.
As much as I have never been involved with an estate I needed to be in charge of it. Both my parents were in know way able to cope with the details, and the issue of trust was ever present. Both siblings don’t live in the province and didn’t want the job. So I somewhat insisted on the job of executor. I justified my reasoning, as I was the most flexible with my time. It was important to me that the executor be a member of the immediate family. And when you really get down to it how much work could it be!
The FA caseworker assigned to our situation has been wonderful and calls regularly with updates. But still not much is happening and he does try to explain we are dealing with a third world country and may never get full answers to our questions. The government’s priority is to get Len body home.
Our household returns to a somewhat state of normal, meals are made, kids are at school, we return to work, plans for Halloween are being made. For me as long as I stay busy I am fine. I find I don’t handle it well when people want to hug me and express their condolences but on the other hand if they don’t acknowledge my loss I am offended. It is a no win situation for all.
What I found the most frustrating during this time was trying to keep control on the situation. Why I felt I needed to be in control is beyond me but I was adamant that we keep a chain of command. Because I was dealing with the painful grief of both parents whom live two very different separate lives. It felt to me that both parents were getting advice from others who meant well but for me I really wanted these decisions made as a family without the outside influences. I was concerned that we handle the death and subsequent estate as private and legal as we could. I didn’t want anyone having hard feelings about what was going on or feeling like their voice was not heard.
As much as I have never been involved with an estate I needed to be in charge of it. Both my parents were in know way able to cope with the details, and the issue of trust was ever present. Both siblings don’t live in the province and didn’t want the job. So I somewhat insisted on the job of executor. I justified my reasoning, as I was the most flexible with my time. It was important to me that the executor be a member of the immediate family. And when you really get down to it how much work could it be!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Day Two
I wake up and for a moment or two I‘m OK, my mind starts on what needs to be done today, which kid needs what and what I need to do for work, just another Tuesday. Then, it hits me, yesterday starts to come flooding back and I realize its not just another Tuesday. Everything is different now, I have to make and receive phone calls. Arrangements have to be made, people have to be told.
I get the younger child off to school, it’s best she go and keep things as normal for her as possible. My teenager says she is not going to school and I don’t have the energy to argue with her. I know word is starting to spread the phone has started its incessant ringing. I drink my morning coffee and ignore it. I just can’t deal with this yet.
I have this strong feeling to protect this situation. I know everyone just wants to help but at this point I want to close the blinds and shut the outside world from entering my life. The phone won’t stop and now the doorbell is going. I take a deep breath and shut my feeling down and get on with it.
One of my closes friends has arrived. Sunshine brings muffins and out of the four of us I think she would understand what is going on the best. She has had to deal with death within her own family and we all were there to witness and do what we could. Though for me it seemed inadequate at the time. My oldest daughter sits with Sunshine, I just try to keep busy. I can’t sit, I need to create some kind of normal, and I need to be doing stuff. Cook, make lists, and make up beds for when my siblings fly in. I just need to keep moving.
Foreign Affairs have called and they are telling me that they have been speaking with the authorities in Belize and Guatemala and before the body can be flown home they must do an autopsy. And before they can even do that they must have a credit card to cover the cost of close to $5000.00 to ship his body home. I am floored by this cost, I don’t have this kind of money and I know my late brother didn’t. After a flurry of phone calls it is arranged to have my father take care of the expense, as my mother (who was not even aware that Len had gone on a vacation) insists she must see the body. We need to get him home ASAP.
Sunshine has left and others come by, a couple of friends give us gift certificates for restaurants so I don’t have to cook. My teenager is impressed with, this she is like “I didn’t know we get gifts when someone dies, Cool”. I laugh at her and think it is the first laugh in two days.
I get the younger child off to school, it’s best she go and keep things as normal for her as possible. My teenager says she is not going to school and I don’t have the energy to argue with her. I know word is starting to spread the phone has started its incessant ringing. I drink my morning coffee and ignore it. I just can’t deal with this yet.
I have this strong feeling to protect this situation. I know everyone just wants to help but at this point I want to close the blinds and shut the outside world from entering my life. The phone won’t stop and now the doorbell is going. I take a deep breath and shut my feeling down and get on with it.
One of my closes friends has arrived. Sunshine brings muffins and out of the four of us I think she would understand what is going on the best. She has had to deal with death within her own family and we all were there to witness and do what we could. Though for me it seemed inadequate at the time. My oldest daughter sits with Sunshine, I just try to keep busy. I can’t sit, I need to create some kind of normal, and I need to be doing stuff. Cook, make lists, and make up beds for when my siblings fly in. I just need to keep moving.
Foreign Affairs have called and they are telling me that they have been speaking with the authorities in Belize and Guatemala and before the body can be flown home they must do an autopsy. And before they can even do that they must have a credit card to cover the cost of close to $5000.00 to ship his body home. I am floored by this cost, I don’t have this kind of money and I know my late brother didn’t. After a flurry of phone calls it is arranged to have my father take care of the expense, as my mother (who was not even aware that Len had gone on a vacation) insists she must see the body. We need to get him home ASAP.
Sunshine has left and others come by, a couple of friends give us gift certificates for restaurants so I don’t have to cook. My teenager is impressed with, this she is like “I didn’t know we get gifts when someone dies, Cool”. I laugh at her and think it is the first laugh in two days.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Day One
I have had some friends ask me to write my story of when there is a death in the family. I’ll try to do my best from the beginning.
Two and a half years ago October, I got home at lunch from errands. There were a number of messages left on the phone. As I listened to them first I thought something has happened to my aunt, then after another message maybe my mom. Finally the last message was to call another aunt. I was starting to get anxious and called my aunt, she would not tell me anything but did say my mom was there. She insisted in talking to my husband. At this time I handed the phone over and when he hung up he informs me that my brother who is two years younger then me had died while on vacation in Belize.
I have to digest this and come up with some kind of plan. We wait till the end of the school day and pick up the kids, We then proceed to tell them. And try to answer questions we don’t have answers for as we drive across town to be with the rest of my family.
Once we are there I talk with my mom who of course is a mess. Her thoughts are not clear she is crying and rambling. I try to get her calm and find out just what has been happening. Because my parents are divorced things are a little more tense as different sides want to help. One relative is talking to Foreign Affairs trying to find out protocol in situations like this. Then I am talking to FA office in Guatemala getting confirmation that yes they have his body and we have to wait till the next business day for further information.
I come back to the living room where more family and friends have arrived, There is a lot of back and forth of what to do next but no decisions are being made. I need to be busy, I can’t just sit there while everyone talks in circles. Everyone has an opinion on what needs to be done. I can feel myself getting angry and try to just talk to my parents. As we can make know decisions tonight, my focus turns to my other siblings. They have not been told yet. Because of time changes I have to wait till I know my sister is home from work. I then call my youngest brother’s father (our ex-stepfather) I hide myself in a bedroom and make the call. For me to keep it together I have to be very formal, very to the point, very business. I tell John what has happened, as we know it. Of course he wants to do something but at this point there is nothing that can be done. I hang up, compose myself to call my sister. It takes her a minute to get on the phone as the family is celebrating her sons birthday. I tell her the best I can and of course the tears are starting now. I tell her I will call her tomorrow when I know more. At this time my youngest brother calls. My cousin had arranged to have a friend go to his work and tell him. Fortunately for me I don’t have to actually say the words "Len has died". We talk for a while he is obviously upset and again I tell him I will call him tomorrow when I know more.
Back downstairs with the extended family I get names and numbers for Foreign Affairs, and the number of a funeral home that can be agreed on. We gather up our kids and head for home. I just want to go to bed and not think about this anymore.
Two and a half years ago October, I got home at lunch from errands. There were a number of messages left on the phone. As I listened to them first I thought something has happened to my aunt, then after another message maybe my mom. Finally the last message was to call another aunt. I was starting to get anxious and called my aunt, she would not tell me anything but did say my mom was there. She insisted in talking to my husband. At this time I handed the phone over and when he hung up he informs me that my brother who is two years younger then me had died while on vacation in Belize.
I have to digest this and come up with some kind of plan. We wait till the end of the school day and pick up the kids, We then proceed to tell them. And try to answer questions we don’t have answers for as we drive across town to be with the rest of my family.
Once we are there I talk with my mom who of course is a mess. Her thoughts are not clear she is crying and rambling. I try to get her calm and find out just what has been happening. Because my parents are divorced things are a little more tense as different sides want to help. One relative is talking to Foreign Affairs trying to find out protocol in situations like this. Then I am talking to FA office in Guatemala getting confirmation that yes they have his body and we have to wait till the next business day for further information.
I come back to the living room where more family and friends have arrived, There is a lot of back and forth of what to do next but no decisions are being made. I need to be busy, I can’t just sit there while everyone talks in circles. Everyone has an opinion on what needs to be done. I can feel myself getting angry and try to just talk to my parents. As we can make know decisions tonight, my focus turns to my other siblings. They have not been told yet. Because of time changes I have to wait till I know my sister is home from work. I then call my youngest brother’s father (our ex-stepfather) I hide myself in a bedroom and make the call. For me to keep it together I have to be very formal, very to the point, very business. I tell John what has happened, as we know it. Of course he wants to do something but at this point there is nothing that can be done. I hang up, compose myself to call my sister. It takes her a minute to get on the phone as the family is celebrating her sons birthday. I tell her the best I can and of course the tears are starting now. I tell her I will call her tomorrow when I know more. At this time my youngest brother calls. My cousin had arranged to have a friend go to his work and tell him. Fortunately for me I don’t have to actually say the words "Len has died". We talk for a while he is obviously upset and again I tell him I will call him tomorrow when I know more.
Back downstairs with the extended family I get names and numbers for Foreign Affairs, and the number of a funeral home that can be agreed on. We gather up our kids and head for home. I just want to go to bed and not think about this anymore.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
The Story of the death of Len
I am reading the words of the three women I love the most. I am touched and proud to call theses women my friends. I know I now need to share, but just like me, I my mind comes up blank! Now that it is crunch time how do I get the words in my head on to the screen and what could I talk about that anyone would want to read.
After much thought I have decided to tell the story of Lens death. Some might be shocked by this story line. But there is so much in this story that is familiar to all of us. It will take me time to tell it all and it will be very emotional at time (I am tearing up as I write this) but there are some over the top, laugh your head of moments. Moments, that if the people in my life had not actually witnessed, you might think it was made up. To my friends and family it is not my intention to hurt anyone feelings or to misinterpret the events. I am going to try to be as honest as possible (as I remember them) and the feelings I write are mine alone.
My hope is when you read this story you..... I really don't know at this time what I want you to get from it. I just have this very deep desire to tell it.
After much thought I have decided to tell the story of Lens death. Some might be shocked by this story line. But there is so much in this story that is familiar to all of us. It will take me time to tell it all and it will be very emotional at time (I am tearing up as I write this) but there are some over the top, laugh your head of moments. Moments, that if the people in my life had not actually witnessed, you might think it was made up. To my friends and family it is not my intention to hurt anyone feelings or to misinterpret the events. I am going to try to be as honest as possible (as I remember them) and the feelings I write are mine alone.
My hope is when you read this story you..... I really don't know at this time what I want you to get from it. I just have this very deep desire to tell it.
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