I got up in a timely manner, 6 am, walked Elsa, did my oil rinse, washed dishes, drank two cups of water, and went to Bikram. The class size was reasonable today, 11 students. I got there early, but someone put their mat in my spot. I am not entitled to my place, but most of the students respect it. It’s not that I need that exact spot, but I like having it; It gives me a sense of belonging.
When I got home, I tried to call the florist to see how they’re doing only to learn they’re not open till 10:30. I called again at 11 am. Still no answer. I left a message this time.
I cleaned out one of Mike’s bathroom drawers. I found one medication that expired in 2005. Given his overstuff freezer, a year’s worth of food, multiple cooking, and serving items, I conclude that my husband was a hoarder, a very, very neat hoarder, but he certainly had more than he needed.
I was about to leave to take care of the faxes I had to send when a car pulled into the driveway. It was a young girl I had taken on as a student. She has had a troubled background, which includes missing a great deal of school. She is 12 and reads on a 1st-grade level. Another parent I worked with recommended me to her aunt, who now has custody of her. I had thought that I had the appointment for Friday. That’s what I have on my schedule, but who knows what I said. I thought this was a good opportunity to do the first meeting quickly. I like to start with introductions to allow the student to scope me out. Am I trustworthy or not? The student is in this situation at their most vulnerable; I am there at my strongest. I asked the aunt to be with her so the girl would feel protected in a new situation. I first asked her if she had any questions for me. She asked me about my personal life. I filled in some general details, age, widowhood, one sister, first-generation American of German descent, 50 years teaching career, you know rough details.
We spoke for a while. She seemed comfortable with me. I asked her on a rate from one to ten how comfortable she was with me. She stated she felt at 10. Amazing, that this girl who has been shuttled around from home to dysfunctional home should be this trusting and open. Wow! My home life wasn’t nearly as hard as hers, and I can’t claim to have been doing at well at 12 as she was doing. Whatever I have become has taken years and years and years of hard work.
Once I felt a fundamental relationship had been established, I made arrangements to meet with her the next day and skedaddled. I had several things I wanted to take care of in town. I wanted to complete my business at Office Max, Xeroxing the application and death certificates, and buy some compressed air so my friend Brian can clean my computer. I asked my grandson how he cleans his laptop. He said it doesn’t get dirty. I’m a total slob in front of my computer. I’ve only drowned one, but I eat all kinds of junk while working on it.
I also stopped off a Petco next door to buy some tar and sulfur shampoo. When Judy brought Elsa home from her grooming at Petco, her skin was in perfect condition. Before she had all these sores on her body. I give her pills every morning, but this soap seems to have resolved her problem lickity-split. Unfortunately, Petco was out of the soap. I had to order it online.
I drove immediately to the chiropractor. This is the first time I’ve seen Kim since Mike got sick. I couldn’t even get an appointment earlier than this date; she was completely booked. I found out Kim is still following my blog. Wow! It always amazes me that people are still interested. She did AR on my left foot and calf, my left psoas, my main problem, and my right inner thigh.
From the chiropractor’s, I was off to the lawyer. Jennifer was recommended by Kim, my chiropractor, and I also knew her from my Bikram class. I went to the address on the binder and checked it in my GPS to be sure. However, when I got there, there was construction going on in their office. The outside walls of their office space were gone. I checked with Lady Gaga again and came up with the same address. I frantically called Jennifer. “Oh, sorry. We haven’t been there for two years.” She told me where her office was and texted me the address. Following Lady Gaga, I made it to the general area, but I still couldn’t find the office. I called Jennifer again. While she had no idea where I was because she didn’t know the landmarks in the area, she was able to tell me that the office was on the mountainside of Kuakini and not the ocean side. I was on the mountainside, so I moved a little bit further up the hill, and there I saw the office park. There were any number of buildings there. I saw buildings marked A, B, C, and D. I called her again. She was in building C. I checked the building directory, but couldn’t find her name on that list. I took the elevator to the second floor, got out, and had no idea which way to go. The lady may be a good lawyer, but she is lousy at giving directions. I found it. I was able to tell her that there was only one account that was exclusively in Mike’s name, for which I wasn’t also listed as a beneficiary. She said if it was under a certain amount, it would be a simple procedure, and the will wouldn’t have to be probated. We made an appointment for Monday.
Ah, Mike and I had not followed her directions when we had our will done a few years ago. She directed us to create a trust to put our money in so we wouldn’t have to go through probate. I am sure she mentioned it to us, but neither one of us registered what she said or followed up. Fortunately, most of the accounts were in both our names, so they automatically became mine. I was the beneficiary of his retirement account, so also, no problem. There was only that one account in Mike’s name that might have to go to probate. Fortunately, that amount was under $100,000, and Hawaiian law did not require probate.
I went off to Safeway to complete my final town chore for the day. There were some unopened items that Mike might have used, but I would not. The return was easy. I bought some salad stuff and two Hersey Milk Chocolate Bars with Whole Almonds and went home. When I got home, I finally texted a Bikram buddy who also attended one of Mike’s bible study classes and who converted to Catholicism under Mike’s tutelage. I was concerned that I hadn’t seen her in class. She had just completed a very challenging round of chemotherapy for a very rare and aggressive form of cancer following an operation. During the treatments, she had been unable to attend. I knew she was planning to come back. Previously, she had attended the 7:30 am class from which I drove her home every day. Winds up, she had been making later classes, and she was fine.
I communicated with Zola, who proposed putting together a memorial booklet for us as she had for her daughter’s funeral. She has been collecting the material, both written statements, and pictures from all of us. Yvette said she wanted to do a eulogy as well as me. Damon decided he wanted at least to write a eulogy for the booklet, whether or not he presented it orally. Then Jean said she wanted to include a eulogy for the booklet. The booklet will now include eulogies from me, Yvette, Damon, Cylin, August, and Jean and the full obituary. This has turned into quite a production. But the whole funeral is a production. Whatever it is, it is not as big as a full Hawaiian funeral. They’re like contemporary weddings.; they’re three-day events. Ours is a mere three hours
I had to get Jean and Yvette to send me their final copies of their eulogies to pass on to Zola. I have some resistance. Not even sure what it is about. Is it the finality of a funeral? Will that get it through my fat head that he’s really gone permanently from my physical presence? He certainly isn’t gone from me energetically. Every night when before I go to sleep, I say, “Good night, Elsa. Good-night, Mike,” and focus on his energetic presence for a minute. I can feel my heart bursting with energy. Can I tell you definitively that it is Mike sending me love? No. But I’ll take the illusion – and I’ll even accept it as real.
I checked my email before I shut down for the night. There were a few from one of Mike’s bible study classes that were interested in coming over a getting a book out of his library. Boy, he loved teaching those classes.
I walked Elsa, wrote some more in the blog, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to be. “Good night, Elsa. Good-night, Mike. I love you.”
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