I'm back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hi guys,

Forgive me if I repeat anything I am just not myself lately. Forgive me also for the length.

I am sorry to have not been around lately other than to give a woohoo or great going.

I am still functioning most of the time on autopilot when it comes to my dads passing.
We clashed so much when he was alive but in the last year of his life we did get along and had fun.

I seem to do okay and then something will happen, like when my mom and I went shopping and I realized we no longer needed to buy Cashew nuts because my dad loved a handful of them as a snack. That hurt.

I really do miss the guy.

It is just too darn quiet now. No matter how sick he was, save for the times the medications he got made him really out of it, he made a joke, or just made noise. Living right now with my mom is very, very quiet. I use to like quiet but not like this quiet. Besides, I cannot go into my dad’s room (he had to be in a hospital bed towards the end). All I feel is him and all I see is him lying on the floor knowing his spirit was trying to leave his failing body.

I can’t wait until we move on December 1st. A new place without pain memories. I have cleared out all his clothes and the crap he kept since he was born or at least that is what it felt like, and it is now a whole lot of empty.
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I did discover some wonderful pictures from when he was a child and teenager. I have them packed away carefully and will concentrate on them after we move.

I also found photos of my mom’s father who passed away back in 1947. It is neat to see this man who may have been all of 45 at the time. He looked so alive.
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The funeral for my Dad was okay. I wrote my Eulogy, and reproduced my brother Al’s on my blog. Al and I got the chance to see my dad before the ceremony. Someone had to attest to the fact that we were burying the right body. Considering the last visual of my dad was him hooked up to the ventilator, which was horrible, I was so exceptionally comforted and happy in my heart to see that the men who readied him for his burial made him look calm and asleep. Al and I had written notes to my dad that we read to him before anyone was in the room with us. The funeral director let us put the notes next to his heart and let us kiss him good-bye. That was hard to do.

The funeral was your standard Jewish ceremony, with my brothers and I talking about him to those who were at the chapel. The rabbi had visited us the night before and he made what he said about my dad seem like he had known the man forever. He kind of did know my dad, or rather my dad made sure he knew him. A friend had taken him this particular temple about 12 years ago and my father went up to this Rabbi after the services on Saturday. My dad told this man, “You don’t know me right now, but I want to get to know you since you will one day officiate at my funeral.” The Rabbi, after seeing a photo of my dad that Sunday night, remembered those words.

The only really hard thing about the funeral was when we were at the cemetery and the grave workers physically lowered the coffin into the grave. I did not want to leave my dad in that cold dark place. I forgot for a moment that he was not there, that he was now part of the cosmic world.

There were about 40 or so of his friends and relatives at the cemetery and each and everyone one of us, as is Jewish tradition, took shovels full of dirt to cover the coffin.
I was so proud of them all. No one wanted just one shovel full, some did 3; some did 5 or 6. The backhoe did not have to do much at all. I have never seen so many people work so much together to say goodbye to someone.

Now, for a fun tale, I am standing there, at the cemetery, with my brothers on either side of my Mom and I have her back. I feel someone put their arm around my waist and I am thinking it is one of my cousins. I turn and there is Mr. Silent. Mitchell himself. He did not let me go through the whole thing until I put in my shovels full of dirt, then when I came back he held me again. What a wonderful surprise. I expected him to come to the ceremony but not to come to the cemetery. Then he showed up later that night for the first night of Shiva.
Yes there are wonderful things in this world.

It was a really long week. Lots of food, (I am now trying to rid myself of a sugar high and 9 pounds of crap food) lots of stories, lots of trying to be pleasant when all I really wanted to do was crawl into a ball and cry.

I am so glad for my youngest niece. Bless her three-month-old soul. She just folded herself into her Aunt Sandgee’s shoulder and let me lose myself in her.
Things quieted down by Thursday and I will admit I was exhausted.

Lets see, besides being on autopilot since Oct 13th and handling all the logistics (John took care of his wife and my nieces, and Alan was in charge of taking care of my mom) I also finally finished up my neurological testing. Now, I wish I could say I know what the hell the Neurologist was talking about when I saw him this past Friday, but all I can remember is “Brain Stem Injury” and “I will be doing anything I can to make your life more comfortable.”

I feel like he gave me a diagnosis, but I am so darn fuzzy with all the medications I have to take I can’t for the life of me remember what it is called. I do know that part of the damage was done from my bout in 1997 with Pseudo Tumor Cerebri, and all the other shit happening physically to me since then. Perhaps the best thing that did happen was me getting the Gastric band and losing 64 pounds so far. Another 60 will help but won’t cure me.

So, I am now not allowed to drive anywhere. I have to use a cane to stabilized myself and preferably walk with someone when I walk my dog. I have to take Valium, Furocet, Diamox, and one major ass drug called Lyrica. Let us just say that I have had to spend 3 weeks building up to the dosage the Neurologist wants me taking. They help me with pain, and ladies and gentlemen, you could throw a bowie knife through my body and I would not feel it at all. Yippee for Narcotics. Can’t beat a legal junkie.



Now, I give you THE FINALE:

During Shiva you really don’t use modern equipment and I tried to stay off the computer and web as much as I could. I did not get to look at my bank balance (of which I am completely, excuse the term, anal about). I go online on Sunday October 22nd and what do I see? Someone had taken my ATM card and cleaned out my checking account. I made a complaint Monday morning October 23rd. I got a call on the 26th to come to the main bank branch to see the picture captured at the ATM. I wanted to see what piece of shit did this. Now mind you I could not imagine losing the card which was soldered into my wallet along with, and I am a schmuck, say it out loud please, my pin # in the wallet in a different place.
The piece of shit turned out to be the nighttime aide we had for my father. SHE DID THIS DURING THE SHIVA PERIOD. I wanted that photo to be anyone else. I had thought she was a good person. She got over 1200$ out of my account. I need to fill out a police report but at first I was not sure. I mean I was 99.5% sure it was she. But, then I began thinking back to when my mom kept complaining that she couldn’t find money or after I had taken cash out for the day and night aides salary I could not locate the amount the next day, or money was taken out of the envelopes I left for their salaries. Then the topper was that my mom was looking for a ring that was my dads and it was in the same box as one of her rings. Guess what, no rings.
So, fuck her, tomorrow is a police report. I will get the money back from the bank, but I will probably be out the amounts of cash she stole from us in the house because there is no visual record. I am sure my dads ring was hocked for money.

The moral of this story? Some people are Nasty rotten immoral people.
Some people are caring wonderful loving people.
And I never give up.

Thanks for listening.