Deep Thoughts On Things......Life.......Whatnot

(Life is not whatnot, and it's none of your business - an homage to my favorite movie)

I've been bad at following through on things I wanted to do. Oh sure, I mean well. I haven't been to the gym since the end of May because of vacation, then massive hours at work. That's slowed down now, but I've gotten out of the habit of going, and that sucks. I haven't gained any weight, but I haven't lost either.

I've been meaning to keep up better with this, but, well, see above.

I've been meaning to do a lot of things.

I was browsing the last few posts I made. I'm still enjoying my Beatles cartoons. I still love Warranty Direct (one of my electric windows broke while on vacation, and they took care of it!). The feud between my friend Javier and the "other faction" involved has chilled out. I enjoyed my vacation. All should be right with the world. Things should be golden - I should be happy (yes, another homage). Ah, but it's not to be.

I had written a letter to my husband's uncle. I'm sure I've mentioned him here before. Without major explanation, he's been incarcerated in a State Correctional Institute out in western PA since 1977, I believe. In short, Ron did some things that were wrong, but he was trapped in a trial with major political implications, and he was made an example of. Life with no possibility of parole for him. Hell, even The Manson Family gets regular parole hearings. The lifers here in the Commonwealth have a saying: Life Is For-Ever. Among the people trapped in this cruel punishment are people who were as young as 17 when they accompanied an ill-advised friend to something bad, and got caught in the crosswind. Ron often said himself that yes, he did some things that were bad, and he wouldn't say he was innocent or railroaded or framed. He deserved punishment. But as someone who didn't commit the crime he was punished for (but being present while the crime was committed will hold you equally culpable under our laws), how much is enough? Ten years? Twenty? Thirty was where Ron was at. Far worse criminals don't serve that long, and are often out for good behavior.

I wasn't feeling well last Wednesday. I had picked up a 24 hour bug going around, but I had an uneasiness going down all day. Something somewhere wasn't right. I got home, and was darting to the restroom when I noticed a "1" on the answering machine. I paused, and hit the button (because of aforementioned uneasiness). It sounded like someone wanted to say something, but hung up. It didn't sound like a salesperson or anything like that. I proceeded down the hallway, and figured I'd dig deeper in a little while. I hit the caller ID menu. Just one call - from Aunt Terri. The uneasiness creeped back, but I thought maybe it was good news, and I called.

I tried to be cheery and hopeful. I heard an exhausted sounding "Hello" at the other end. I said "Hey Terri. I saw you called but didn't leave a message. What's up?". I heard nothing but silence, and then a sigh, followed by "Um, Ron died last night". I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. I listened numb as she explained how he and his cellmate always joked around, and his cellmate had gotten up in the night, and saw Ron was "laying funny". He thought it might be a joke, but felt uneasy about it and shook him. He was unresponsive. A number of attempts were made to revive him with no luck. They took him to a hospital and he was pronounced dead of a heart attack. He was 61.

I tried my best to console Terri. She sounded exhausted. I asked the all-time bonehead question: "Are you OK?". She said "Um, no, not really". I told her that was incredibly stupid of me, and she said it was OK, and she needed a chuckle. We talked a bit, and she said she had to go, and she'd call with arrangements. Two minutes later, the phone rang, and it was Nelson calling to tell me he'd be late. Shades of me telling him his mother died creeped back to me. I must have subconsciously done as I did when his mom died because he kept asking me what was wrong, and I kept telling him we'd talk later. As before, he finally got it out of me. He said he almost ran the truck off the road. We'd just seen him in June. He was his usual happy self. No indications whatsoever that it would be the last time we'd see him.

The next day, I sat at my desk in the morning, and looked over to see his letter that I had written. It was in an envelope, only needing a stamp, but I had never gotten around to mailing it. That bothered me. Why couldn't I just have taken two minutes and sent the dang thing? He loved mail, and he would never get my letter because I didn't do what I should have.

As I finalized things Monday afternoon before leaving for his viewing down in the Lehigh Valley, I grabbed the letter and put it in my car. I couldn't bring myself to throw it away. We started the long drive down, and talked about who might or might not show up, and who we might have to "deal with" while we were there. My husband's family is like the box of chocolates from Forrest Gump - you'll never know what you'll get. To say it's dysfunctional is an understatement. Most of them were horribly abused, or shuffled through the system. Many grew up to be drug addicts or alcoholics (my husband included - 11 years sober now, he doesn't even like non-alcoholic beer anymore). Most have deep-seeded animosity toward some of the others. Others still will choose up sides. A family get-together is guaranteed to get ugly at some point - that's why we often only see them at weddings and funerals. After Ron's passing, it left only one of the siblings left - an Aunt that estranged herself from many of the others long ago. I'd only been around her once - at a funeral - and Nelson's mom saw to it that we didn't go anywhere near her, as they did not get along. We wondered if she'd show up. She didn't show up at Nelson's mom's funeral, but that's because she told her at another sister's funeral that she'd better not come (so she didn't). You get the picture, and what we were thinking.

So we got there (relatively early), and it was largely Ron's kids and grandkids there - what we expected. Nelson's step-dad was there, and we chatted with him. Not too long after, Nelson's cousin (daughter of aforementioned aunt) showed up. She and I never really got along because she was too rough with her daughter and discipline and I threatened to kick her ass once. I see nothing wrong with a swat on the rear end, but you do not pick your kids up by the armpits and shake them! And since none of the people there said anything (because they were not only treated that way but most had treated their kids that way), I made sure she knew it wasn't cool. There are other reasons I have issue with her, but I don't believe in airing all the family's dirty laundry in public, but let's just say it involves one of her kids, and that's a bad spot for me.

I was shocked when she came up and hugged me. She talked to me like we never had issues. She then told me she had split with her husband (who was part of the problem) and I was pleased that it sounds like she's grown up a bit. I didn't see her hit any of her kids - just raise her voice, and it wasn't bad. Nelson asked if her mother was coming, and sure enough, she walked around the corner. We both jumped, because her resemblance to Nelson's mom was uncanny, and it creeped us out for a minute.

Then the unexpected happened. Nelson said he felt the need to talk to her, and he did, and they had a rather pleasant conversation. No bickering, no blame - just healing, and that's good. She gave us her address and phone number, and told us we were welcome to visit. She even said she'd help us identify people in Nelson's mom's photos. And I say a step in the right direction is good no matter what.

A little later, two of Nelson's late Aunt's three kids came with their kids, who were tiny the last time I saw them. I always liked the girls, and felt bad for them when their mom died so young. Their dads aren't in their lives, so they were essentially orphans in their early 20's. Problem is that Nelson's mom promised her sister she'd look after them, but took it too literally, and they finally asked her to leave them alone, and so anything we heard about his cousins was negative.

The next morning, I noticed that Ron's letter was still in the back of my car. I told Terri, and she told me that she wanted me to give the letter to him, because it was his, and he could read it later. He had a beautiful service, and when time came to close the casket, I put the letter under his hand. Like Terri said, he'll have something to read later. There were some pictures in there too that I'm sure he'll enjoy. Nelson served as a Pall Bearer, and he had a lovely Military burial.

At the after-service get-together, all of "us kids" (Nelson's cousins, and his brother) were chatting about the older generation, and how it's effectively kept us from knowing the family. We exchanged phone numbers, and addresses, and e-mail addresses, and agreed to keep in touch. And I mean it this time. Life is just too short.

And if you have a letter laying around, ready to be mailed - please mail it.