It was Thomas Wolfe who said "You can't go home" back in the early 1900's. He was right. I lost the home that I have known since August of 2001.
It all started on an innocent Mother's Day 2023.
Every year Bob (Robert D. Rands who is currently interned at Belcrest Memorial Park in Salem, Oregon) and I always enjoyed our yearly treat of a Mother's Day buffet at our favorite Asian restaurant. We got to know the new owner while there and supped as usual. With full bellies we went home content in our feast.
His phone rang. It was his childhood friend from 70 years ago that now lives in Hawaii. Bob then started looking ill. He told his friend bye then told me to get his digitalis. I gave him one and then another. He then requested a call to 911.
As he was clutching his chest (as he had congestive heart failure for the last 2 decades) I am crying, screaming and pleading with 911 to hurry. By the time they arrived he lost consciousness. They had a tough time extricating him from the electric lay-z-boy. They put him on the floor and proceeded with CPR. I went out to the front porch so they could do their job. A medic came out and asked me if he had a DNR. I said that if he did it would be on the fridge. It took them 15 minutes to bring him back but he was still out cold. The same medic then came back to me and said to be not alarmed when they remove him from the house that he was on a ventilator. I was stunned and in shock to see him in that state. I knew this was the end of him. I then called Martha.
Martha was Bob's daughter's best friend of 45 years (they are no longer friends due to what Bob's daughter did) as she had all of Bob's legal documents and medical directives and was only 90 minutes away. Bob's daughter was 3000 miles away. Martha and I met up at the hospital. Martha spoke with his daughter and they agreed on how he should be medically treated. They agreed to keep him ventilated so his daughter would have time to fly from Maryland to Oregon and his son and family from Florida to say good-bye to their father. It's now about one a.m. and we are tired with emotional drainage. I said my good-bye to him. As I held his hand I softly spoke to him thanking him for all that he is and was to me. I then had to leave. I could no longer stand to see his body twitching. Martha and I then went back to the house.
Once at the house I sat on the couch with my mind going everywhere. Martha started poking around the house to see what needs to be done. His daughter (I'll call her bitch and douche will refer to her husband) is set to arrive the following day at nine p.m. She is told to leave the douche in MD so that her brother can come and say good-bye. NO ONE likes her husband at all! In fact Bob put in his will that douche is not to get any part of his estate.
I think I managed a few hours of sleep then moped round the house until 11 p.m. the next night. My anxiety level was surreal. By guesstimation, the bitch should be arriving any minute. Now I don't want any confrontation or whatever so I leave the house and I am driving all over town. Fight or flight. Come two a.m. I figure she's not coming. Come to find out she did arrive, ate a nice steak/lobster dinner then laid her head to rest at the nicest hotel in town. She didn't even go to the hospital.
A few more tick-tocks and some sleep Martha arrives at the house. We talk for a bit and I then leave to get us some food. As I turn the corner I see a face that is familiar (from photos). It's the douche! She brought the douche! And... their little dog too! Needless to say this pisses off her brother (Saint) and his wife (Angel) as he now loses $1,100 in airfare and they won't have the chance to say good-bye. I circle the block coming around to see that they are trying to be sneaky and park behind the house/garage so the rental car can not be seen. By now I am frantically texting and calling Martha to no avail. So, I lurk.
Apparently they are trying to get into the house without a 24 hr. notice. Oh boy they went nuts and called the police. The douche is all sorts of rottenness. So awful that the police had to demand that he go back to the car and park his fat ass. Then Martha calls me and apprises me of what's going on. I am asked to come back.
I do return but I do not leave my car and I am sure to keep the engine running with the doors locked and the window cracked just enough for a conversation. The bitch walks up and wants to sell me the house knowing full well that I have no job. What does she want me to do? Pay her in food stamps? She then makes demands for this/that. Martha protests saying that I should not give her a damn thing. However, I want to show good faith and start the process of working together. So Martha goes into the house and fetches the grocery bag that I had put his keys, wallet, phone and charger into. Literally within seconds they are GONE! I assume that it is to go to the hospital. Nope! They haven't been there yet and it's near two p.m. Instead they head to the bank armed with documents and now the keys to the two safety boxes.