Friday, Oct. 7, 2011

We get up early and drive home to Madison. The weather is perfect and the journey goes smoothly. Indian Summer. Spoke to a close friend today (Sunday) who said "the service was so nice and very fitting. It made everyone feel comfortable. How nice that the minister knew Gene so well."

She was amazed when I told that she only met Dad once.

Thursday, Oct. 6, 2011

Today is the funeral. We rise, shower and have a good breakfast. The service is set for 11 a.m. I knew that my dear cousin Rena, husband and daughters will be driving from Broken Arrow along with her brother Roger and his family. Folks will come from Ketchum. Travel time is needed.

At some point, our VA benefits guy Mark, notified PMO about paperwork needing my mom's signature, so we want to get this done while we're in Joplin. It has also become apparent that the facility with a memory unit we have been pursuing does not have space available for mom right now. We will not be moving her back to Madison on this trip.

Joel and I take off for the nursing home to see mom. He lost his cell phone the night before, which is frustrating. But we stop at the bank first because I need some cash. I intend to pay the sign language interpreter for her services, in spite of being told by the funeral director that she isn't expecting to be paid. This is a theme. People in these parts are genuinely nice.

Mom is up and dressed and is so happy to see us. We have about 45 minutes with her before needing to leave for the funeral. She was a great sport to sign the papers I brought. We have a sweet visit and look at photos. Joel and I know the right thing is for her not to be at the service. We left her listening to Frank Sinatra.

The day is bright and sunny, as it has been all week. Not a cloud in the sky. There is a small group in the chapel. The interpreter's name is Erin. She's not a CODA (child of deaf adult), but was influenced by a SODA (sibling of deaf adult) to become an interpreter.

Terri is there and ready for the service. The slide show of photos plays above the coffin while soft music plays. We enter and sit in the front row. Joel sits on my right, PMO on my left and then my kids. The slide show is great.

Terri begins with a welcome. Then comes the first song "Old Rugged Cross." It was one of Dad's favorite hymns. This version is sung by Ann Murray. The added signing of the hymn makes for a very moving experience. Then a prayer, followed by a reading from scripture, II Timothy 4: 6 - 8.

The pastor delivers the most wonderful eulogy. I was so impressed with her ability to weave all the information she had gotten from me only hours ago into a beautiful and fitting tribute. It was absolutely perfect. The service hit just the right notes and had just the right tone to celebrate the life of the man we all loved so much.  The song "Just a Closer Walk With Thee" closed the service. It was a version by Patsy Cline.

The chapel service came to a close and the mourners came up to greet, hug and express their condolences to us. Everyone who I expected to be there, was there. And a few unexpected. Like Tyler, a fine young man who was Dad's financial advisor. Close friends Joanie and Tom. Neighbors Nell and Dick, Ron and Joanne. Dad's cousin Barbara and son Jon. Some folks from Ketchum I didn't know at all. His niece and nephew from Oklahoma and their families. A man from the Methodist church who was one of the men's breakfast group. He so enjoyed my Dad's friendship and will miss him.

Our immediate family rides in a white limo and follows the hearse to Mount Hope cemetery. They take the back way, fortunately, to avoid the hideous Range Line Road.

We wait as the military unit carry Dad from the hearse to the pavilion. The coffin is covered by the flag. There are five young men and one young woman who are members of the National Guard. Reverend Terri reads the 23rd Psalm. There is the 21 gun salute and the playing of taps. The most poignant moment comes when the flag is folded and the young guardsman hands it to me and recites these words: "This flag is presented on behalf of a grateful nation and the United States Army as a token of appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service."


Everyone heads back to the funeral home to get their cars. We decide that a meal at Lumpy's is in order. It was one of Dad's favorite local places. He loved having their bbq and drinking a beer.

At the restaurant is the former pastor of Royal Heights, Tracy Baer and the man from the breakfast group. He mentions how much he liked the obituary.

We all disperse, take a nap and later on collect my Mom and have dinner at Olive Garden. She barely eats, but chugs her glass of Cabernet. She said it was like Christmas having us all together. We talked about the service a little, but she was just thrilled to be with us.

Before turning in for the night, there's just one last thing I need to do. Download "Closer Walk" by Patsy Cline.

Wednesday, Oct. 5, 2011

My family arrived last night. They were a sight for sore eyes, but my eyes were very tired and I had to close them for the night.

In the morning, we ate breakfast and went over the nursing home. PMO and the kids visited with my mom while I met with the pastor at her church.

The Royal Heights Methodist church is large and looks to be a very active place, appearing to have been added on to over time. I was running late and apologized to Terri. We hadn't met face to face until then. I had spoken with her on the phone a few times. We went into her sunlit office and sat at a glass table. I brought along some biblical verses that PMO had gathered from our Catholic Church as possible suggestions for the readings. You could fit everything I know about scripture into a thimble.

But I know volumes about my dad.

We talked for nearly two hours. She asked very good questions to draw out stories about Dad. I wanted there to be as much laughter at the service as possible. He would have wanted that.

Arrived back at the nursing home where it was getting to be lunch time. We opted to let Mom stay for lunch there and the four of us went out to the Roadhouse. Today was Sean's 29th birthday. I had planned to have lunch with him this day, but this wasn't exactly what I had in mind. The funniest thing was that PMO and Erin ordered the exact same thing. As did Sean and I.

Dropped Sean off at the nearby mall to get a haircut and pair of dress shoes. Erin and PMO went back to the hotel. I went to the nh to visit with Mom and give her the opportunity to go see Dad and say her goodbyes in private.

She and I calmly talked in her room for over an hour. I asked her a number of times throughout the conversation about seeing him and she declined each time. There were times during our talk that she didn't remember being married to him that long. I showed her the obituary from the paper and read it to her. We looked at family pictures.

I wanted to see my Dad before anyone else so I took that opportunity. The funeral home was well-appointed and serene. I was shown to the parlor room where he was. There were names in the guest book, but visitors had not been allowed in until a family member said it was okay.

Seeing the deceased is never easy, but I believe it helps one move through the grieving process. He didn't look the same to me. And yet it was him. Glasses on, hands folded. He looked smaller than I remembered. There was an American flag draped across the end. His army jacket was displayed respectfully on a hanger, with the cap above it.

My husband and children arrived. They looked so nice, dressed appropriately for the occasion.
We stayed a little while, sat quietly and talked. And then went back to the hotel for happy hour.

When my brother Joel got to town, PMO, Sean and I met him at a sports bar across the street. Erin opted to stay in and go to bed. She's on a baker's schedule, early to rise.





http://www.joplinglobe.com/obituaries/x673422699/Kenneth-Gene-Allen

Tues, Oct. 4, 2011

Staying at the Drury Inn in Joplin has always been our preference, and this time was no different. It's clean, comfortable, reasonably priced and we really enjoy the full breakfast and happy hour that's included with the room rate.

The manager, Gail, gave me a special rate. She knew my circumstance and was sympathetic. I had called her the week before to inquire about an extended stay. My plan had been to get down to Joplin to be with Dad in his final days and stay as long as necessary. Well, so much for that.

After breakfast, I went by NHC to collect the suit I selected months before, to take to the funeral home. And I wanted to know how Mom was doing. Would she be able to come to the funeral? This was what Kelly, the social services director, and I talked that morning while Betty, the head of housekeeping fetched the suit.

They both warned me that funerals can be especially difficult for people with Alzheimer's. I'd have to play this one by ear and assess how she is, and how much she understood about what had happened to her husband. I wanted to be the one to tell her he had died. Thought it should come from a family member. My brother wasn't arriving until Wed night, so I had to do this solo.

My meeting with Dan at the nursing home was set for 10 a.m. I arrived with the suit, my dad's army jacket and medals, photos, etc. for the service. I had decided on Sunday after talking to he and the pastor that the service would be at the funeral home. Less complicated logistically than having it at a church. And the issue of pall bearers was not going to be easy to solve. With so few family in the area, and mostly older folks who I expected to attend, these factors led me to opt out of the church service.

Dan is a very calm and patient man who guided me through the maze of decisions. We finalized the obituary, chose a casket, talked about music as well as the military honors that would be part of the ceremony at the cemetery.

Back at the nursing home, I see that Mom is having lunch with a group of ladies in the dining room. I opt to grab a bite for lunch myself and come back.

Mom knows me and is delighted to see me. I sat in her room on C hall and we chatted. The staff at this nursing home are wonderful, very caring and compassionate and they all loved my dad, which is no surprise. Mom seems most concerned about the shared bathroom and the people on the other side of the door. She fidgets around, opening and closing drawers in the dresser and the doors on the closet. Her thoughts are very scattered and random. We get to the subject of Gene (referring to him as "dad" confuses her). She gets very sad at the idea of his passing, but it doesn't last more than about 20 seconds.

A nice young CNA named Kelly and I conspire about an outfit for Mom to wear, should we end up taking her to the service.

My husband and children are in route to Joplin and I talk to them on the phone. They left at noon due to Erin having an appointment with the cable/internet provider in her new apartment. They are set to arrive late that night.

I had to leave to meet the cemetery director, Bob, at Mount Hope that afternoon. He had known Gene and was very fond of him. Dad would counsel him on best practices for maintaining the cemetery grounds, what herbicides to use, etc. and and in exchange, Bob would let him take black dirt for his personal use. Bob was so taken with Dad, that he waived the fee for the use of the pavilion for Thursday's service. It would be the setting for the military honors. I chose a marker for the grave. Dad had purchased two plots in the cemetery a number of years ago. Bob told me the story of how this came to be, and how fortuitous it turned out for him. He considered Gene a true friend and wouldn't accept any money.

I returned and had dinner with Mom that evening. Several staff came to me and offered condolences. After dinner, my dad's boxed up items were in the activity room and I wanted to find some photos and the radio I knew were there. Mom loves music and can remember the names of songs and all the lyrics to her favorites. While she listened to Frank Sinatra, I sorted my Dad's personal things, clothes, etc and consolidated the keepable things into one box. I was able to load one large box, a laundry basket and his TV into my little Audi.

By the time I got back to the hotel, the sun was setting and I was exhausted.

Monday, Oct. 3, 2011

It's hard to get out of bed, even with my resolve to make good time and get on the road. I leave the house at around 8 a.m.

The weather is unseasonably good. Warm and sunny. The beautiful conditions last all the way to Joplin. I arrived around 7:30 p.m. I did make good time.

It was an emotional drive, and I shed many a tear along the way. But as I approached Joplin, there was the most gorgeous, golden glowing sunset I have ever seen. I'd like to think it was a sign. Dad was comforting me.

Sunday, Oct. 2, 2011 part II

Needless to say, I don't really sleep the rest of the night. The remainder of the day is spent on the phone, contacting relatives and close friends about what has happened. And trying to come up with a plan that is the least ridiculous about how to get down there, who, what, when and which car.

My daughter, Erin, is scheduled to move into a new apartment on Monday, 10/3. She's all packed and ready. I had planned to take off work that day and help her schlep her "green boxes" loaded with all her stuff using our station wagon.

It is decided that I will drive my Audi on Monday to get there and make funeral arrangements. PMO, Sean and Erin will follow on Tuesday after they all make the move happen on Monday. I hate driving alone for 12 hours. But I've done it before. So be it.

In and around the phone calls, I manage to write Dad's obituary and choose photos that captured appropriate points in his life and reflected his personality and spirit.

I could devote many pages to him, but this series is more about my experience of burying him and saying goodbye.

Sunday, Oct. 2, 2011

In the wee hours of Sunday morning, we are awakened at 3 a.m. by the ringing doorbell, followed by knocking. This is serious and probably not someone whose car has broken down and needs a phone...like that happens anyway these days.

I make PMO get up and answer. He stumbles downstairs and opens the door. I overhear the words "nursing home" and "Joplin." Instinctively, even in my half-unconscious state, I know what this means. I have three missed calls from NHC. 1:22 a.m., 1:33 a.m. and 2:06 a.m.

PMO hands me a piece of legal paper with a phone number and name on it. I grab my blackberry, and sit a the dining room table. Bob is a CNA (certified nursing assistant) from the nursing home. He apologizes and then informs me that Dad has passed away.

I remember him saying something about Dad having "a rough couple of days." And that he suffered "a couple of seizures" before succumbing to death.

We talk about where he will be taken. A mortuary in Joplin. There are two. Someone from Mason-Woodard will be calling me.

Gene Allen, 1921 - 2011

My dad passed away this week. The past seven days have felt like more like three weeks. While it's still fresh in my tired brain, the next series of posts are intended to record my memories and observations from this recent experience of marking his passing.