One day, for some odd reason, she got dressed up like she was going somewhere. I didn't know why at first. I gave her the protein shake that I had learned to make palatable for her for lunch: milk, ice, protein mix, a little bit of chocolate syrup with a dash of vanilla extract, a half a banana , sweet and low and a half of a multi-vitamin pill blended in for an extra healthy supplement. She seemed pretty happy with it and thanked me. I said "no problem" and went to the back of the house to take a nap in a reclining chair. I woke up a couple hours later and peeked through the kitchen door and into the living room to check up on her. She looked like she had dozed off. I went back to the reclining chair and watched several episodes of Sponge Bob Square Pants. About an hour later I peeked once again to check her status. She was frozen in the same position. I walked over to her and called "grandma!". There was no response. I got closer. She wasn't breathing, and her cheek was cool to the touch. She had died, dressed in her Sunday best, an add for holiday fruitcakes in her lap, seated in her favorite chair in the house that she had lived in for almost 50 years. I had kept my promise to my grandpa.
Hardly anyone showed up to the funeral. My aunt and her banker husband gave me three days to leave the house; I had been staying there to answer calls from relatives and keep the house clean for the wake. My grandmother appointed my aunts husband executor of her will, which had been altered to his specifications with her approval. The sale of the house probably netted over 400,000 dollars. My father got 30,000 dollars, and I got 10,000 dollars. The rest of the money went to the bankers family. I didn't mind, I had long anticipated the money grab. My parents were seething. They never wanted to talk to my fathers sister again. They felt betrayed. Oh well, I thought, when it comes to greed there always has to be winners and losers.
I took the money and started to use a good portion of it to fix my broken down car. The smart move would've been to sell my car for anything I could get for it and buy a used car that was in better shape. But my grandpa had given me that car and I couldn't bear parting with it. I ended up spending nearly half the money on repairs [tune-up, tires, shocks and struts, drive shafts, rack and pinion-man I was stupid]. The rest of the money was spent on a cell phone, hotels, food, and a job finding excursion into the desert that ended up fruitless. With a small amount of inheritance left I came back to Orange County and found a job at a dog and cat kennel. I was always good with animals, especially cats. But after three months working there my car blew a head gasket, and while trying to fix the problem myself with the help of a co-worker my car was towed off the street. Now I was REALLY homeless; with no where to stay and no way to get to work.
Next up: Why Not Join the Military?
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Chapter Eleven: Forgivness and a Promise Kept
Towards the end of my two year stint with living out of my car I got a chance to reconcile with my grandmother. Her health was deteriorating, so I decided to make good on a promise that I had made to my grandfather while he was on his death bed.
My grandfather was a WWII vet. He fought in the South Pacific and ended up in Nagasaki six days after the dropping of the atomic bomb. He wasn't my real grandfather in the genetic sense, but he loved me like his own nonetheless. I loved my grandpa. He taught me how to shake hands like a man when I was a kid, and I always had a great deal of respect for him. It was tough to see his body slowly break down from ailments his Doctors thought might have been associated with the radiation he was exposed to in Nagasaki. Towards the end of his life he was taken to the VA Hospital in Long Beach; a shadow of his former self, broken down and weak. I went to see him one last time. He was stripped down to his underwear. His hands were bound to the sides of his bed to keep him from pulling the I.V. tubes out of his arms and the intubation tube stuck down his throat. I saw him there looking helpless and could see in his eyes that he wanted to die. I leaned over and thanked him for being my grandpa. I told him I loved him and kissed him on the forehead. I promised that I'd take care of grandma, then said goodbye. He died two days later.
I didn't want to see my grandmother committed to a rest home because of a lack of care, so I started to show up at her house everyday to check in on her. The place was a wreck; trash bags and clutter everywhere, dirty towels in the wash room, putrid rotting food on the kitchen counters, rotten food dripping with brown gunk in the refrigerator. This was all unacceptable, so I cleaned and sanitized the house top to bottom. I also learned how to prepare the protein shakes with which she was sustaining herself, since that was the only thing she could keep down. I was basically the only family member that showed any interest in doing what was necessary in keeping her out of a rest home. Her daughter, who was a trained nurse, had three kids of her own to take care of. She'd stop by every few days to check in and make sure that her mom was taking her meds. Her husband was a vice president of a bank. They had enough money to provide a day care provider for her, but why waste the money when I was willing to do it for free? My dad didn't ever stop by to visit his mom, he was just waiting for the hefty inheritance that he'd never receive. But I was there everyday, on work days as well as my days off.
My grandmother had always been a two-faced person. She seemed a friendly enough person to enjoy her company, but then she would say things behind peoples backs to turn people against one another. The whole family knew of this horrible trait, which was probably why her son and daughter never came by to spend any quality time with her at the end of her life. But I had made my peace with her. While I was taking care of her we became close, not the dysfunctional kind of close that I had known in my childhood, but a closeness minus all the bull crap. She wanted me to move back in with her, but I declined. I'd continue to live out of my car and take care of her the best I could. A strange thing happened about six weeks before she died. That two-faced side of her personality, that other side of her character that pitted people against each other, disappeared entirely. It was almost like a miracle. I called family members to come witness the transformation for themselves, but no one ever came by.
Next up: One Road Ends, Another Continues.
My grandfather was a WWII vet. He fought in the South Pacific and ended up in Nagasaki six days after the dropping of the atomic bomb. He wasn't my real grandfather in the genetic sense, but he loved me like his own nonetheless. I loved my grandpa. He taught me how to shake hands like a man when I was a kid, and I always had a great deal of respect for him. It was tough to see his body slowly break down from ailments his Doctors thought might have been associated with the radiation he was exposed to in Nagasaki. Towards the end of his life he was taken to the VA Hospital in Long Beach; a shadow of his former self, broken down and weak. I went to see him one last time. He was stripped down to his underwear. His hands were bound to the sides of his bed to keep him from pulling the I.V. tubes out of his arms and the intubation tube stuck down his throat. I saw him there looking helpless and could see in his eyes that he wanted to die. I leaned over and thanked him for being my grandpa. I told him I loved him and kissed him on the forehead. I promised that I'd take care of grandma, then said goodbye. He died two days later.
I didn't want to see my grandmother committed to a rest home because of a lack of care, so I started to show up at her house everyday to check in on her. The place was a wreck; trash bags and clutter everywhere, dirty towels in the wash room, putrid rotting food on the kitchen counters, rotten food dripping with brown gunk in the refrigerator. This was all unacceptable, so I cleaned and sanitized the house top to bottom. I also learned how to prepare the protein shakes with which she was sustaining herself, since that was the only thing she could keep down. I was basically the only family member that showed any interest in doing what was necessary in keeping her out of a rest home. Her daughter, who was a trained nurse, had three kids of her own to take care of. She'd stop by every few days to check in and make sure that her mom was taking her meds. Her husband was a vice president of a bank. They had enough money to provide a day care provider for her, but why waste the money when I was willing to do it for free? My dad didn't ever stop by to visit his mom, he was just waiting for the hefty inheritance that he'd never receive. But I was there everyday, on work days as well as my days off.
My grandmother had always been a two-faced person. She seemed a friendly enough person to enjoy her company, but then she would say things behind peoples backs to turn people against one another. The whole family knew of this horrible trait, which was probably why her son and daughter never came by to spend any quality time with her at the end of her life. But I had made my peace with her. While I was taking care of her we became close, not the dysfunctional kind of close that I had known in my childhood, but a closeness minus all the bull crap. She wanted me to move back in with her, but I declined. I'd continue to live out of my car and take care of her the best I could. A strange thing happened about six weeks before she died. That two-faced side of her personality, that other side of her character that pitted people against each other, disappeared entirely. It was almost like a miracle. I called family members to come witness the transformation for themselves, but no one ever came by.
Next up: One Road Ends, Another Continues.
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