Turning a Tragedy into a Lingering Nightmare: Destroying the Family Circle When a Loved One Dies - Part 1

So, your dad dies... 

...and your immediate thoughts are "What do I get out of this?" and "I'm sure my bother and sister are going to go in that house and steal all the good stuff and get all the stuff that I want and deserve! I want what should be mine! I know they're going to cheat me!"

Really? 

Has that brother or sister ever given you reason to not trust them? Have they stolen from you before? Do you think for a second there's anything really in father's house that they really want? Have you not been free to get anything you've wanted all these years? Or anything that belonged to our mother in his house that's been left behind over the ten years that she's been dead? Really? What would that be?

How about instead maybe, "This is a tragedy for us all. My step-father and my step-sister's birth father has died after 85 years of living. Oh gee, there's going to be a lot of work to do. Going into the house and cleaning out stuff and sorting through things. Who's going to be responsible to handle all this? I better find a way to get there and help. Plus all the funeral arrangements have to be made and shipping the body and having the funeral, a preacher, notices, obituary, pictures, flowers, funeral director arrangement, documents signed, money to pay these people (where's THAT going to come from?), find the will, meet with a lawyer, dress and go to the funeral, prepare a meal afterwards, arrange plane flights and try to do it all in one week. All in one week. 

Plus all the sadness and grieving. I better pitch in and help however I can. I'm sure my brother and sister will need some support. We can all grieve together and try to find some healing and bonding between us all. It's the least I can do. He was my step-father who gave me the only real fathering I've ever known - who has always treated me very well and loved me and done tons of things for me throughout my childhood and life. He loved me with a smiling spirit - with tolerance and forgiveness for any of my past misbehavings. And he loved my mother very much and was always kind to everyone. I could never repay him for all the good he has brought to my life. How could I not love and appreciate him even if I find fault with him in other ways. The least I can do is honor him respectfully in death, be helpful to the others living, and try to pitch in with my brother and sister and whoever else will help through this process. It's the least I can do. It's obviously the only right and proper thing to do. I can give love and comfort in a time of tragedy."

But instead we get this...

"I'm not going to help in any of this! I'm not even going to step into that house! I hate that house! Oh I know you guys are going to steal from me. You've already said you're taking the truck that he insisted that you have. He was probably out of his mind when he wanted to give you his retirement prized truck! You better sell that truck and give me my fair share of that! That's probably a $10,000 truck and I should get at least a third of it even if there are five children. He doesn't have any right to give away that truck. I want my fair share! I don't care if it was his prized possession and symbol of his life's retirement that he wanted somebody else to cherish! I want the money from it!"

And...

"So my brother and sister are going to fly a long thousand miles to step into my town and try to take over and bury our father. I'm not going to help! I didn't hardly help in his last years while he was alive, to even check on him and make sure he's not fallen or needs food or needs love, company and support. Even if he did raise me from childhood and always been there for me and I live 15 minutes away. I've already done my part with somebody else once. By helping out that original father who raised me in my babyhood and mom told me was my father. I helped him find a nursing home, had my husband to clean up in his house, and did chores and bought supplies for him and lots of things. He didn't even appreciate it. No sir, I'm not doing anything else for anybody like that. I've already done my helping. This step-father who's treated me like his very own daughter and raised me through life. I'm not helping anyone in regards to his funeral or have anything else to do with him. Somebody else can do that. Let my brother and sister come and take care of all that. He wasn't even my real father anyway!"

And...

"Well, I'll pick them up at the airport. That's it. I won't even go inside and greet them like I normally do. I'll sit in the car outside with an attitude and then strictly give them a ride. Then I'll drop them off. I won't even go inside. They'll probably think we can all go into his long abandoned house and start sorting and facing what's all to be done. They'll want to go through all the photos and cherished mementos together. They'll think we'll all show in the process. I'll show them. They'll probably have to go in after their long flight and clean up the bedroom and sheets just to have a place to sleep. I won't offer them anything. No food, hospitality, nothing. In fact, I'm going out partying tonight. I won't even contact them. If they want to visit with me they can contact me. Who cares about them anyway? They've told me they're cheating me out of dad's truck instead of selling it. I'm sure their plans are just to cheat me more. He wasn't my real father anyway. I'm not going to help at all!!! Let them do all the work! And if something doesn't go how I think it should at the funeral, I'll make a big scene there too."

And so the bereaved sister and brother went into the long abandoned home that their father had left a year before. He left and died in a far away state, being taken care of by his own son and his wife - the only ones willing to take him in during his lingering days of feeble health. And yes, they did clean up a bedroom. Wash some sheets. Vacuum dust and debris. Figure something to eat and then went to sleep in their now dead father's home, only to wake and start figuring out how to arrange a funeral for the father who died leaving his loving children to close out his life with honor and respect. 

The future responses from other siblings was as yet unknown, but soon to be discovered as the nightmare and bitter feelings had just begun.

Left is the New Right

Liberate. To free one’s self from an existing order. To loosen a binding of persons, places, ideas and institutions. To bring down an order of things.

Conserve. To keep what one has and minimize loss. To maintain. To preserve the order of things. Keeping and extending the existing structure of what’s been built. Keeping the order of things.

We have our political language wrong - or it has just worn out. To be a Conservative in America today is now the inverse of what it used to be. Conservatives no longer have an order to conserve but instead only a remnant of memories of what they thought still existed. 

Liberals - or Progressives if you prefer - are no longer liberating or trying to change the the existing order. They are the order. 

This is a great inversion. The labels just haven’t caught up yet. The Left is the new Right, and the Right is the new Left. What’s been to date known as Conservative is now radical. It is not the Establishment. It is in fact on the outside looking in, still trying to figure out what happened. 

The New Right - that is the Established now Old Left, the Liberals, the Progressives as they are still being called - are recently getting relabeled as the illiberals, which seems appropriate. The New Left - those trying to change the existing order of things - are being called by the New Right the Deplorables, Radical Far Right, Conspiracy Theorists, Nationalists, Trump-lovers, etc. etc. The Old Right, that doesn’t know they’ve been usurped, are still trying to figure out who they are.

Let’s define the New Right. What are they far? Actually they are not for anything as so much as they are against the former things. That would be  Individual Liberty, Gun ownership, Family, Our previously defined American history, America itself, God, Christianity, Whites, Women, Men, (possibly children, or at least the required responsibility to care for or even birth children -that abortion is an assumed right), and most of all Male Whites, and any formerly established assumed values of Good.

I think things may have peaked with the declarations of victory of the Civil Rights Act. Which was actually a progression of the old value of the right to Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness or that “All men are created equal”. Another peaking may have been when Obama was elected. The first Black President. What a victory! Pretty much everybody was happy to see that. Whew! We can put this whole ugly past of prejudices behind us. We all now finally can feel racism is dead. 

Wrong!

Martin Luther King Jr. stated something like we should all be judged by the weight of our character instead of the color of our skin. So this is when the Left went to far. They changed that into an inversion. Luther was wrong. Now  we must do the opposite and judge by the color of the skin. We need to segregate skin colors and instead of giving equal liberty and justice for all we have to now give preferential treatment. And we can do that by convincing all White People how they’ve had preferential treatment all this time and now it’s time for all the others to be treated preferentially. We’ll shame whites with “White Privilege”. We can do the same for men in general too. Let’s give preferential treatment in all ways to women in general. They deserve it after millenniums of oppression by the the Male Hierarchy. 

You know the story.

A good litmus test is the former “Pledge of Allegiance to the flag of the United States of America”. Remember? One nation under God with Liberty and Justice for all? 

Blasphemy to the new Order of Things. That once sacred vow is declared anathema today. 

In Jungian terms ala Jordan Peterson, the New Establishment has now become the Devouring Mother and the Tyrannical Father. They are the Order that has gotten old and must now face new chaos from the outside - which happens to be the remnants of the former order raising up from the dead.

The Left is now the Order destined to be replaced. It cannot last. It is the Tyrannical King at the end of its reign. So be it. Death to the king that health may be returned to this now dying kingdom .

 I am studying the Red Book. Enough said.

An Old Truck Can Capture Your Heart

Vehicles and houses are funny things. They are just material and supposedly only commodities -to be bought and sold. But somehow that's not the total of what they are. A car, or a truck, and also a house, are more than just "things". They somehow hold memories. And that's what makes them special.

I said goodbye to my 1968 Ford truck today. It hasn't ran for years and just sat next to my barn slowly decaying. And yet it gave me comfort, every time I passed and glanced it's way.

I bought it sometime in the late 1980s or early 90s. It was already a classic. I loved describing the 4-barrel carburetor, the big V8 engine, the duel-exhaust headers and the power this beast had as it leapt into action roaring with just a slight tap of the gas. It drank gas like air and always turned an eye coming down the street.

I gave it to my teenage son, to safely grant him power and protection I thought, as he drove through his High School days. Next, my daughter of course drove it through her High School days to the envy of every young male there. Their tales are told repeatedly, with laughter and fond memories of the mishaps and adventures driving this old truck.

This truck drove us from Houston to Austin loaded with dogs, family and grandparents, faithfully, though not without doubts, making the journey successfully back in the mid 2000s.

I've replaced the engine, rebuilt the brake system, gave it a new carburetor (after poking a hole in it clumsily) and gave it a new $2000 paint job at one time. Ariel learned mechanics and independence turning wrenches, getting greasy, and repairing one part at a time, learning the ability to keep yourself sustained and moving.

I've scrubbed and polished it, started it repeatedly just to drive it around the block -stretching its metal bones- and worked on every part of this machine myself to give it life.

Eventually though, it grew tired, cranky, and rusty. I ignored it for other things in life, and it slowly sank into retirement for the spiders, birds, and squirrels to nest under its hood. Now finally, someone else thinks it worthy of attention. Today it has to be hauled up on a specialty wheeled flatbed with a winch to be hauled down the road to places unknown.

Thank you my old '68 Ford truck. You've been a friend. May your memories live on for years to come. I know I will always consider our time spent together more than just ordinary. It was a fun. It was special.

We don't own our animals. We host them.

Freckled Dwarf Monitors a long way from
their native home in Australia I hosted for a while

I have decided it is not accurate nor useful to think that we own our pets. Just like we don't own our children nor our parents nor our friends, animals under our care are individual creatures beyond ownership.

Viewing them as objects owned, blinds us to their unique place in the universe separate from us and masks much of the joy we have the opportunity to receive by simply recognizing them for who they are.

Indonesian Jungle Carpet Pythons
I hosted into the world from eggs with their parents' help

We don't own animals. If we're lucky, we get to host a few of them. And that's better for all of us.

Phoebe Dove - a friend for 14 years
named after my Great Great Grandmother

 

Mowgli - hosted by Alena Sanders in Czech Republic

A Hero Has Fallen

A hero for human freedom died yesterday while under imprisonment for speaking out against the state. His name is forbidden to be spoken in China and his life and death hidden and forbidden to be revealed to the 1.4 Billion people that Liu Xiaobo fought to bring freedom to.

Liu Xiaobo was in New York at the time Tiananmen Square peaceful protests broke out for freedom in 1989. He went to those demonstrations before the government crack down and is considered to be 1 of the 4 of main Chinese intellectuals who spoke out for the Chinese people's freedoms. He saved and negotiated for the escape of many students before the government slaughtering began at Tiananmen Square.

He has been in prison for the last 8 years for speaking out against the state. His body is kept within China to control any outside observances of his grave site. The 1.4 billion people within China do not know what this man has done or said on their behalf - nor do they know of his death. His entire life will be hidden from their history and cultural consciousness.

Liu Xiaobo's struggle for freedoms was not just for China, but for the future of all men who he warns can easily also lose their human dignities and rights by an oppressive government if men do not speak out and fight for their freedoms.

I didn't know much of Liu Xiaob, but my heart sags knowing that great men like this arise now and then - though their bodies are captured and beaten - and their memories are wiped.

May freedom ring.

When Babies Die and Life Goes On

A friend from work had a tragedy beyond words, where in recovery for weeks in a hospital he still was not told the fate of his children for fear of his inability to recover. Finally he was told his two child had died in the car crash. Here is his story a year later in an email to friends, along with my story back to him. Shed a tear and thank God for the preciousness of life. 

---------------

From: N.
Sent: [date omitted]
To: [A select few]
Subject: A new year... a new life... a new beginning

I believe every individual has that event in their life which result in a life altering sequence of changes where you see a consequent shift in the very fundamental characteristics that define you. An year ago, [date omitted] to be exact, while travelling to Hyderabad in my car I met with an accident that involved my wife and both my kids. The doctor said it was a miracle that I and my wife survived but we lost our kids. My daughter K. was five and my son I. was two. Experience, they say is the best teacher in life but in my case this turned out to be a very harsh lesson. After what seemed like an eternity, we slowly started accepting reality. Over the next few months we endured several things that we never thought we could but somehow managed to bring some order to this chaos, put this behind us and move on. Physical recovery also picked up pace and now we are able to manage things on our own.

Not sure if I should call it misfortune or just fate, but it did take our kids away from us, denied us the blissful delight of watching them laugh, cry, play, run around falling and getting up, get sick and be nursed back to health, it essentially snatched away the joys of parenthood from us. It took us time and effort to come out of this state of mind and a few months ago we started thinking of rebuilding our family all over again. Giving thought in this direction and after weighing several options we finally decided on adoption. Out of all this darkness and gloom that we had endured so far, this was our opportunity to show the same love and affection of a parent to a child who does not have it today. I will not deny that at this point of time we were both yearning to get another chance to have a kid, to protect as a father and to nurture as a mother. We went through the application process, interviews and finally all our efforts came to fruition last week. A baby girl ( 5 months old) was up for adoption and we were called for a visit. It was love at first sight. A week later we welcomed her into our home, our family and our lives.

Throughout this ordeal I discovered many things which I believe in our daily busy lives we either ignore or take for granted. The preciousness of life, moments you cherish with your loved ones, warmth of friendly company and I can go on... Among these, the rallying support from all of my family, friends and colleagues was the chief catalyst for our recovery and the guiding strength for us to move on and think of rebuilding our family. Right from the scores of folks who came all the way to Hyderabad and visited me in the hospital time and again, donated blood, took up my responsibilities at work and managed things through this year, the burden of getting our lives back on track was greatly reduced. The support and well wishes from my colleagues was a big help and showed me that this is truly my extended family.

We did lose our kids and with them a part of our lives as well but their memories are with us to remember and cherish forever. I wouldn’t want to think of this new bundle of joy as a ray of hope but rather a second chance that brings happiness back in our lives. For everyone who has done so much for me so far, for the love and care that has been bestowed on my family, words fall acutely short in my expression of appreciation and gratitude. I hope I will get an opportunity someday to do the same for you.

Please welcome our baby girl… K. junior... 

N.

---------------

From: Mitch Sanders
Sent: [date omitted]
To: N.
Subject: A new year... a new life... a new beginning

Dear N.,

She is darling beyond expression. She will bring much joy to you and your wife I’m sure. God bless you Narendra and thank you for sharing such a powerful story. Good to see you coming out of the darkness that death casts you into.

Just so you know my story a bit also. We had a darling baby girl 8 months old. The last I saw her alive I laid her down in her crib and went out with a friend leaving her in care of wife and friends at house. I came back a couple of hours later to a home with my wife in the front yard screaming and our baby laying on the ground. I tried to give her mouth to mouth, but from the hollowness of her chest I could tell she was dead. Ambulance came and stuff like that, burial etc.

My daughter today

I only tell my story to honor yours. In some ways you never get over the loss of a child. Life does go on though. We had a daughter about 2 years later who has grown up to be a zany fun loving delight. The gap of the loss of my first daughter (Aysley Wynn was her name) will always remain, but the cycle of sorrow and joy is much of what makes life. My love and heart to you always. Thanks again for the bravery of writing such a letter and sending it out and to include me. I am honored. 

“Better is sorrow than laughter, For by the sadness of the face the heart becometh better.” 

-King Solomon, Ecclesiastes 7:3, circa 931 BC

Mitch