Saturday night, October 5th Shawn was waking me up at 10:30 PM. He kept telling me to sit up. I don't know why but I thought something was wrong with my pillows and he was going to fix them. I propped myself up one elbow. "Hmmuh?" I managed. "Um," Shawn replied. "Darrell has passed."
Shawn was convinced I'd want to get dressed and hop int he car. I called my dad and explained I had overdone it on it the Benadryl, a sleep aid I'd been using for over a year. My parents actually didnt want us coming out. They had many things to take of and so it worked out for me to chat with SHawn for a few minuets and go back to bed.
I awoke to a small dog walking around my pillow, standing on (and pulling) my hair. I rolled over onto my belly and looked straight into Zoe's eyes, then the clock. 5:52 AM. Oh well, I thought. I should get tot he grocery store and get the things Mom needed. I was fine until I got in the car and the song "Yellow" by Coldplay came on. Tears formed in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. And I really fuckin' hate that song--I always have. "Look at the stars, how they shine for yooooooo," that's all it took.
I'd picked up some cameras and printed some signs, warning that cameras were about. Mom was ultra paranoid Betty would retaliate somehow and hurt one of her animals. "She knows how dear these animals are to me!" Mom said. Once at Mom's, I was overcome with how strange everything was.
When Darrell moved in, it was strange just him being there. I had barely seen him over the last twenty years and then here he was. It wasn't as though he didn't belong it was just strange. And now, the air conditioner was shut off, the windows and doors were open, letting in a cool breeze. The bedding on the couch was gone, the mattress on the floor was gone and the hodge podge of medications had been erased from the counter and kitchen table. It seemed so strange.
Amy, an old longtime friend of Darrell's sat the table with our cousin Kenny. Christy and Dearl Crawford soon filled chairs and we laughed and cried and laughed and cried. I actually didn't start crying until Christy and Amy began talking about how strong Mom was was and someone said what a "rock" I had been and then the rock began to cry. Dearl and Christy and Amy had all been old buddies of Darrell's and we've all gotten to know them a good bit. I am glad to have gotten to know these people. Despite their faults, they're good people.
"If it wasn't for you, Darrell wouldn't have been here and I thank you so much for that," Mom cried to Crawford. I've trained most people in saying Crawford to avoid confusion when speaking of Dearl--it always messed me up! Christy began the story of how she kept Darrell awake. It amazed me how Christy can tell a story of an attempted suicide and have us all laughing from beginning to end--this is why I like her so much.
It all began about 3 or 4 years ago. It's difficult for me to keep track of time. Betty had left Darrell and he was sleeping on friend's couches, in his truck, in rat hole motels. His tools had been stolen and life in general sucked. He called Crawford and said he was "gonna do it" and that he was in a place where they used to have a lot of fun. Mom drove in the wrong direction, thinking he'd went to the old farm. Crawford and Christy drove to a remote are they had hung out in as teenagers. Darrell had fought Christy over another handful of pills, he claimed he was thirty. She refused to give him water. SHe told Crawford to smack Darrell int he face and he slapped him lightly. "NO! NOT LIKE THAT!" Christy yelled. "LIKE THIS!!" and she drew he arm back and slapped my uncle like an angry wife.
She was trying to keep him awake until the ambulence arrived. She finally got Darrell on his feet and to keep him there and conscious, she would continuously grab chunks of his flesh and pinch--and twist. This description of the story really got us howling around the table.
Of course it was soon after that everyone had noticed a slight abrasion on Darrell's face that never healed and began to seep. Even after his attempted suicide, Darrell continued to bounce from couch to couch until after a long stay with one of the cousins, he gave into Mom's wishes. We dreaded the times he'd want to stay with Betty because he always came back in worse condition. And later, as his condition worsen naturally, Betty would have someone drive her over so she could pick pocket. That morning Mom finally told off Betty, she told her that everyone knew the only reason she ever came around was for money. And it's very true and EVERYONE knows that.
"All that stuff just keeps playing over and over in my mind," Mom said, earlier Saturday morning. "Betty said a neighbor was baking a cake. 'I ain't baking any cake!!' He didn't even get a cake that year so I guess that's why I bought such a huge one this time." Every rotten thing Betty had ever done was playing like a record in my mom's mind, ever since she'd told her off. "You asked me if I felt better? Yes and no. I feel guilty." You see it isn't like Mom to tell someone off. "I have NEVER had such hatred in my heart. Ever!"
People filtered in and out with gifts of food. Many of us ate as a way to fidget, something to do with our hands and mouths while others spoke. Speaking for Shawn and myself, we went home feeling like it was Thanksgiving dinner all day. Amy had showed up with ten breakfast tacos first thing and they were so awesome! After a couple hours I made a grab at a second one and my mom laughed at me. "They might go bad. I'll see to it that they don't spoil," I joked. Afterward, others were inclined for a second taco.
Darrell's sons, Justin and Josh had neither called nor bothered to do...well, anything at all. It's exactly as Mom put it. They live their own lives as if nothing is wrong. Neither of them called to say thank you for taking care of my dad. Neither of them called to say, are you alright?
Dad spoke to Justin's wife, Nikki, a few minuets after it had happened. She said they'd probably be over the next day. Around 4pm, still nothing. Mom called Nikki and it was whopper of a story. Nikki and Justin had seperated (again) but Justin didn't want a single soul to know. I thought it was a bit rude of Nikki to wait for Mom to call her after we spent the whole day assuming they would all be over--for what, I don't know.
Mom didn't speak to either of the sons. This isn't uncommon or even unexpected after the way they've generally behaved this whole time (I'll spare the boring details). For some reason (God only knows why) Darrell made Justin the executor of his estate--which doesn't mean much really because everything Darrell owned was in my old bedroom and amounted to clothes and basic necessities. However, Justin needed to sign some papers in order for the cremation to proceed. Mom made this very clear to NIkki and since they live a two hours' drive away, that everything could be done by fax.
Mom had said our cousin Judy was once executor of Darrell's estate and we wished it were still in effect. Judy would have everything taken care of in a timely, grown-up manner. Nikki had also told Mom that Justin refused to scatter the ashes in October because that was his son's birthday month.
This got everyone in the house riled. Dad immediately began to spew all sorts of obscentties regarding this news and once inside called them "mother fuckers" and how they're so "fucking stupid". Something to that degree. I've heard my dad drop the F Bomb maybe--maybe twice in my 32 years of life and now once by my mother. This is what these people do good kind folks like my parents.
You don't get to decide when a person dies. Often it happens inconviently. I am wondering if Justin takes off an entire month to celebrate his son's birthday. The ashes ought to be scattered within the next 2 weeks so we can gain closure. Many of these things were said.
Months ago, Darrell and Dad went out to where he and Mom grew up on the old farm. He marked a spot specifically and Dad placed a flag in the ground. For months he had told us all, do it whenever, just not in the rain. Justin had concocted something and said Darrell wanted to be scattered in the spring time. Mom argued with him over it, made sure with Darrell--and sure enough it was just something Justin had made up. Some had thought this whole "birthday month" was a way to "get at" my parents. Shawn was outraged and told them both, "Don't ever let anyone tell you that you didn't do right by Darrell!" Later in the car he said to me, "If any one of them ever says anything about your parents, it's on!!"
I suggested that this is merely Justin getting his way. He did this to me all the time when we were kids. If he wasn't getting his way, he'd make me miserable until it was going his way. I think this whole "birthday month" bull shit is just him trying to get his way. "He was an asshole when we were kids and he's still an asshole. He hasn't changed a bit," I said. And of course, the meth usage had made him a "waste of space and air" also my words.
Apparently when Justin would once in a blue moon drive this way, he'd pick up Betty and they'd hang out and smoke meth like they were old chums. When this was first discovered some months back we were startled by it because Justin and Betty had hated each other for more years than I know. Suddenly they're BFFs.
Mom invited my sister who is married to Shawn's brother, Bob and the 3 youngest kids (the eldest is away at school) to help eat up some of this food. At some time Bob said to Shawn, "Sheila doesn't seem to want anything to do with this whole Darrell thing." Shawn suggested that means Bob doesn't know that Sheila had stolen morphine from Darrell for 3 months and was quietly banned from my parents' home. The twins knew about it because they were in the back room, playing Mom's keyboard when Mom caught my sister stealing pills. She kept her voice very quiet though. The girls confirmed to Mom a couple months later they had heard, alright.
Mom forced Sheila to go outside and apologize to Darrell. Darrell didn't want anyone to know about it because he didn't want anyone to think badly of her. I got news for ya, I've known about her booze and pill habit for a loooooooong time. I just never thought she'd steal pain pills from a dying man. It was around this time that Mom relaized how bad it was. Sheila blabbed a secret to Mom as an excuse. "You just don't know what I'm going through!" she cried.
Bull shit. The girls told me something secret that I kept to myself for nearly a year. It ate me up. I couldn't help them inthe way that I wanted to. I went over there and they asked that I would tell Sheila. As a group, we did, though the words came from my mouth. Sheila didn't seem so interested about it the next day. It was simply an excuse and I never intended for Mom--of all people--to find out. From there I explained how bad things had gotten and that's why we've been getting kids over for frequent sleep overs. Shawn still doesn't know about the girls, but he knows about the booze and drugs. God help us all if Shawn found out. Anyway, he agreed it would be good to make sure we keep a close base with the kids from now on.
So, at this point, everyone pretty much knows how much a loser junkie she is and hasn't back inside that house until the day after my uncle passed away. Maybe Bob knows she stole all those pills and doesn't understand why she wasn't upset about Darrell. Of course, she's never been that upset about much since she discovered the numbing qualitities of drugs and alcohol.
It still disgusts me. The day he had a skin graft on his face, I was there. I walked into the recovery room and thank God Darrell was knocked out and asleep because the instant I saw him, I cried. How my sister can have no thought or cares for anyone (including herself) is beyond me. I stopped caring a long time ago. When she didn't get those girls help, when she stole from my uncle, I stopped caring. I couldn't explain to Mom why we never spoke. She'd always go on about the distance between her and Darrell for so many years and I couldn't tell her. Why should I worry her? What good would it have done? My sister slit her wrists some years back--the kids own father dragged them into the bathroom and told them to look at what their mother had done.
Shawn and I had agreed long ago that when that little slip up happens, whatever it is, those kids will be living with us. One little minor thing is all that's left. One of the girls had once told me that I was more of a mom to her than her own mother. It felt good but also broke my damn heart. I cried over it because I always had a good mom. I don't know what happened to our family.
Monday was hard. I hadn't slept much and I was still grieving. I was at work for a whole eight hours until I told my boss. Just thinking of telling him made me cry. I knew I had to tell him because he's always real good at asking, "How's your uncle?" Once upstairs, I could feel the tears forming behind my eyes and once again every inch of my skin was screaming at me, "Get outta there! Run!" I had to leave before I cried like an idiot.
It's amazing to me how close me and Darrell had grown. He was around, he disapeared for twenty years and suddenly was part of my life again. Cancer is not the easiest thing to deal with. It's certainly not easy to watch someone whither and die. At least I could always leave at the end of the day; my parents could not. As hard as all this has been, I'm eternally grateful for the time we gained with Darrell. If he had not gotten sick, he would not have reconciled with my mother. He would still be a stranger to me and I would not know how to make potato soup (his special request early on).
Darrell's friends, Amy, Crawford and Christy might be strangers to me if not for that fateful day in the middle of no where. "It wasn't his time," Christy said. It wasn't. I'd grown deeply attached to my uncle, once again. It was very hard to see him in that state near the end but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I wouldn't trade running to the store for apple juice and cigarettes and countless runs to the gorcery store. I wouldn't trade the one time I put together a joint for him at my mother's kitchen table (something I NEVER thought I'd do) and I wouldn't trade sitting out in the heat with him while he smoked.
I wouldn't trade any of it. I'm glad for the times we shared and the times he made me laugh so hard. After all this time, I think to this very day my fondest memory of Darrell was after his skin graft surgery. I didn't know him at the time but he felt comfortable enough to warn me of the high level of water in the toilet. He told me he'd dipped his balls in the cold water a few times--his words. I laughed from embarssment.
After a week, his long hair had become matted and tangled. I brushed it for an hour and he hollered so loudly I thought they might throw us all out of the hospital! "Yeeeeoooooo!" he'd holler. And I'd laugh uncontrollably. Darrell would look at Mom in bewilderment. "She thinks it's funny!" The more he hollered, the more I'd laugh.
For this, yes, I am glad he got sick. He might've offed himself some other time and this time would have been stolen from us. There's not a doubt in my mind where Darrell is today. I know where he is. I like to think there's a special table in Heaven for the cancer warriors of my family. I picture a cafeteria, very large and somewhere in this room is a large round table and seated at it are all the members of my family that had suffered and felt so much pain.
And they are all laughing and having a good time.
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