Going Home...both Lonnie and I...
Jeremy got here last Thursday night...he was a godsend for me. I had such a horrible day...another where the tears just wouldn’t abate. When I had his message that he was on the bus to Portland from Logan I was thrilled and immediately felt just a bit more like I’d be able to get through this weekend.
Jason, Lori and the kids, Shelly and Thelma all came to see him Friday morning...it was lovely of them to do and so good to see them all. I was doing yet another day of containing Dad so I sent them on their way and remained at the house with him. We left for the viewing...stopping at Kim’s along the way. Photos of him everywhere...the urn...an unbelievably beautiful arrangement in an old copper washtub was the centerpiece behind his photo.
My big strong incredible brother...an urn of ashes and a photo.
The night was fine...it was actually very good. A lot of sadness, but many laughs. I met people he had worked with and had gone to camp with. He was kind and caring and funny...how much of his life I was never part of.
When we got back to Dad’s I warmed up spaghetti and garlic bread for he, Jeremy and I.
The next morning we left for the funeral. The minister created a lovely service. I cried through my bits...Mike, Lonnie’s best friend, was funny and worthy of being my brother’s best friend...Brian, Lonnie’s oldest and tallest (so said he by way of introduction) son, was funny and did a great job as well. I suppose we didn’t overlap on our speeches...I broke down through the whole thing. I just hope that if he was watching he could see how much I loved him...that I love him.
Sunday the next serious bout of drama began. Jerry and Ann camre over, as did Kirk, Laura and Brian. Dad, Jerry and I stayed and the others went to lunch...courtesy of Aunt Ann. Lonnie had Dad as beneficiary on his 401k and his life insurance. Wow...all that day and the next I heard how unfair it was on him, that Lonnie did everything wrong...at one point he told Dick and I that Jerry told him ‘all of them’ had taken out credit (loans and cards I presume) in his name. I was really pissed off...an absolute blatant lie and even with his confusion something I know he would have done years ago. Just the kind of stand up guy he was. So on Sunday we were talking about his will...at one point he said that Jeremy deserved less than the other boys because of all of his breaks. When I asked he said he gets a free house (I explained again that is part of his pay) and he lives in Europe (no explanation on that one) and when he was pissed of cause I questioned him he said he didn’t remember me or my son paying for flights or anything else...that was it. I bit back that we had indeed paid and we could care less about being paid back (he did give me the money for both trips today) and that I had paid for groceries from the time I got there on Boxing Day till I left, then did the same when I came back the second time. And that the only time we went to the store for groceries when Jeremy was here it was him who paid for it. Jerry told me to go and walk the dog...I gladly did...I am so sick of him doing that. Like I said to Kim at one point...his actions and words are that of Larry at any age - the dementia just has him saying the same horrible things over and over again.
That day came to an end...Jeremy was to leave at about 8.30 am on Monday...Dad’s car wouldn’t start. Add to that, earlier in the morning I told him I thought there was something wrong with his phone as it kept shutting off and surprise, surprise he got pissed off at me and it was my fault. When the car wouldn’t start he couldn’t get the phone to work to call Dick and he got pissed off me all over again and almost threw the phone when I suggested he needed to turn it on. Crisis was averted and Jeremy was off by Joe’s taxi (made it with 5 minutes to spare)...and the day went on. Jerry talked to him about making payment of the funeral and bits...well as always he was sweetness and light to him on the phone and I got the rest. That was when he went on the rampage of ‘them all’ racking up credit in his name to Dick and I. I barely slept Monday night because I ended up with a killer headache.
Yesterday I seemed to do better...I didn’t react. I remember making the appointment for him (with him finally approving me to do it and sitting there as I did) for the water to be turned off. An hour later it was my fault I’d done it and he wanted his house back. I reminded him again Dick needed a key...and he told me to mind my own business and he’d be glad to be alone again. I snuck around and did some cleaning (cause he gets highly upset that I’m thinking he’s dirty) and sat around all day. Every time he misplaced something it was my fault and I needed to leave things alone. I know there is an element of the dementia and fear of losing control of his life, but I have a lifetime of history that I’m not good enough...that I’m not wanted around...that nice Larry is brought out for company and real Larry is left for us. I decided not to bite...not to give him a platform for his rants. I did well till today........
I was carrying on as yesterday...no reaction from me and no platform for him. He was packing and I had done the laundry, the dishes, vaccuumed, and just shrugged off his insults and comments when I offered to help out or made suggestions (silly things like not putting the clothes you need for travelling at the bottom of the case and to not forget his pills). The rant carried on until he said something to the effect...all you do is sit in that chair. I started to shoot back, but contained it to ‘oh so you want to go there eh?’. He again told me he wanted his house back and was sick of never being able to do anything right...blah, blah, blah. I stayed in the chair and didn’t offer any help or anything...we went to Walmart and he was shitty in there about tshirts. Then we went to the bank (in fairness Jerry did tell him to give me the cash for the tickets which he did) and he was all s and l (sweetness and light) when the girls offered condolences and were gushing over him. We got back to the car and he barely spoke. By the time we got home I calmed down...I made us something to eat and he actually accepted a little help packing.
I read all of this and it sounds so ridiculously stupid. How on earth could a 54 year old woman be driven to this level of hatred and a 59 year old man kill himself...and I know he was instrumental in both of our states of mind.
I feel even more guilt for hating him so much. Now that he has dementia (stress related primarily) I see that as some sort of reflective coating...how can I possibly hate him...he has dementia.
I’m a mess. I just want to get back to England. Tomorrow we’re with Jerry and Ann most of the day and then I drop him off around noon at Logan, and I go to my terminal to wait for my flight. I’m exhausted and I haven’t made one move to tackling the grieving process for my brother. His pain...my God his pain. How on earth do you actually reconcile this.