Today is 13 March, 2025.
Genoa's 29th birthday is Saturday, but that's not what's making me feel old.
My dad died Friday, 28 Feb.
And since then, in addition to just being sad, having to call family, arrange a separate memorial and family "funeral', contact insurance and investment jokers, talk to the coroner more times than any living person not in law enforcement should have to, cleaning out his trailer, trying to separate precious memories family members might wish to keep from garbage- I have to teach because there are no paid bereavement days, I have to use sick days and personal days and at least if I come in I'm distracted but not in a good way because while I'm teaching the coroner called and my sisters are texting plans and questions about phone numbers and whose making the document for the neighborhood and for the memorial so I come in but can't focus so I don't have to blow my sick days because I am gonna be hella sick when this is over but spring break is the week after next and we're going to Delta to see my cousin and when we get back we have my dad's VFW "life celebration" and I'm fine.
I never leave my phone. I barely let it run out of a charge unless I'm at home and can plug it in. My dad, however, was World Famous for letting his phone die. He would also turn off the cellular data without understanding how he had managed to do so, and once completely forgot how to use it and contacted me on Facebook by commenting on an unrelated post---that he had lost his car keys.
I have the screen shot. It's hilarious. It's two comments on a Trump post.
"Krys, did I give you a key?"
"I can't find my keys."
So I called him, and he answered like he understood his phone. I asked if he was, in fact, locked out of his trailer. No, he just had no idea where his keys were. I promised to come over the next morning. The next morning, as I was getting a Torchy's Taco before adjourning to his trailer, he called me from his Facebook messenger. Again...what? He said he couldn't find the phone on the phone. But he found Facebook messenger.
Upon arrival, I had to call my sister to activate his "FIND MY KEYS WITH MY PHONE" tracker, and the beep was so quiet it took an hour just to locate it. I found them-after tearing apart his spare room- in a pair of pants he hadn't worn in a while, in a clothes basket containing only the pants.
Anyway, I don't fully understand my phone, either, but I also don't let it die. Or leave it. I do not believe I've ever left it behind in a building overnight. Maybe, possibly, at Littleton Back In The Day when I first got a phone. But not since then.
The day my dad died, the alarm had sounded through my sister. We take turns sounding it as dad habitually lets his phone die, and his tracker says it's in the trailer. We told him last time if he does this again we're just going to call the police. Karie couldn't access the tracker (turns out he'd turned off his data) and wanted to know if anyone had heard from him this week. I'd called twice, no answer, and sent several texts without a reply. I was supposed to pick him up Saturday morning to go get his hair cut at Genoa's salon. I figured I'd find out then what was up with the phone.
We sent Harper to bang on the trailer. Our first clue was that the trailer was locked. Dad never, ever locked his trailer if he was home. It was so that his neighbors, or us, could walk in after pounding on the door and he couldn't hear (refused to get hearing aids) or was asleep. He did NOT want us calling the police if his phone died again. Harp texted the thread to say his lights were off, no answer and the door locked. 5 pm. I had our first Thespian Cabaret at 6, and while the school is only 15 minutes from his trailer, I had kids to be responsible for. Harp asked if she should call the police, and I screamed through the text NO. Why? Because I knew. And I did not want her to find her grandpa.
My phone died shortly after, I did the show, and then left the building---without my phone. Because it was 8 pm, the building had been locked and I couldn't get back in. I was going to go by the trailer after the show, but without my phone...what good would that do? I couldn't call the police.
So I went home.
It's weird as hell not having ANY WAY to contact ANYONE. I just sat in the kitchen until Jim came home at which time I dove at his phone and called my sister.
"He's not getting his hair cut tomorrow," she yelled at me. She yells a lot. It's OK. "He's gone."
It took me a second. I thought he'd vacated and run away. "What?"
"He's dead."
"I'm on my way, stay there."
I threw Jim's phone and ran down the hall to change out of my pajamas. He stared at me and I just kept chanting "My dad is dead, my dad is dead, my dad is dead---" I drove 80 MPH down Hampden to his trailer---why? He'd still be dead. I knew Ed was with Karie. But she shouldn't be without her sister.
I shouldn't be without my sister.
I don't have much to say about the details. The trailer was able to contain four police officers, four paramedics (two who tried to resuscitate, who switched out with two to load), a Coroner, a Victim's Advocate two sisters a husband and a deceased father.
Here is what I will say. If you have a DNR, display copies on your fridge, your bedside table, your glove box. Because otherwise.. they will attempt R. No matter how long you've been gone.
When I got there, we had to scramble to find paperwork for Science Care. My dad---I believe in an effort to impress my mom, who divorced him forty years ago---chose to donate his boy and have it cremated. The police said we had to know what funeral home we were taking him to BEFORE the Coroner arrived in an hour and his paperwork was locked at mom's house---again, why?---who sleeps without her hearing aids. Karie couldn't get her on the phone, mom was asleep, but Karie said "Great, my dad is dead and my mom is probably dead she can't hear me."
We decide to just call a mortuary and decide now to cremate him someplace. The VA would probably help with the cost. The only mortuary I know is Drinkwine, and Karie couldn't stop shouting and yelling about what a dumb name that was for us to follow through. I think it's a family name. Sorry, Drinkwine.
It was decided they would ride like the wind, Bullseye, to Lakewood, terrify mom from her sleep, locate the Science Care Donation and Cremation document and return before the Coroner arrived. But first, they leave me her phone because mine is still locked in the building, and I didn't take Jim's with me because he can't be home without a phone and my dad is dead. When I tried to use it to call Jim, I realized Karie did not give me her passcode and had to run into the street to stop her car and get it from her. The neighbors who were already outside due to the ambulance and police cars-one with a beautiful German Shepard K-9 partner who barked at me to announce my arrival---were given more fodder to add to their story.
They did, in fact, terrify mom out of her deep slumber and locate the paperwork. They called me with the phone number en route back, just in case the coroner arrived before them. I told the police, who said to call Science Care as instructed by dad's paperwork which begins '"When I Die Call This Number". And that conversation is another entire entry unto itself.
Karie and Ed returned before the Coroner. Who was, in fact, a lovely small kind quiet human who told us we shouldn't be in any hurry to make any funeral arrangement decisions.
I glared at the cop. He chose not to see me.
We called my sister in Wyoming first. She was confused as it was Karie's number that came up and my voice. Then I called Genoa--- Harp was on a date and I insisted that nobody call her or text her, I wanted her to be told face to face---Karie called Bob and we called Sharon after calling Lisa to get Sharon's number.
Then Harp found out because my dumb ass nephew posted it on Facebook.
All in all to sum up, I could see my dad's feet on the floor. Even though he died quietly in his own bed, snuggled up, he was removed so they could try to resuscitate him.
I'm getting DNR tattooed on my chest.
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