Sunday, October 11, 2009
Where Did He Put His Hands?
I may have blogged about this already, I've been doing this for a while and can't possibly remember every post I've made. Hell, I can't even remember what I posted yesterday. *lol* But, this one fits in with "spooky stuff" month.
I still remember the day my sister called and told me Dad had passed. January 28. I expected it when we left their house after our visit at Christmas, and I cried all the way from So. Cal back to No. California, knowing I probably wouldn't see Daddy again.
Mom and Dad had lived in the same house for quite a while. My dad's health had failed, and he became more possessive of my mother. She was the center of his world and he didn't want to share her with anyone. For some reason, right before he died, he asked Mom to promise not to sell the house. I think he knew it would be paid off soon and he wanted to provide for her.
Anyhow, Daddy died in his den, doing what he loved most...watching TV. He passed sometime during the middle of the night and by the time Mom found him, it was far too late to call for help.
My sisters and I set about trying to change the "look" of the house to help Mom forget how and where Dad had died. We took the recliners out of the den and transformed it back into the bedroom it was supposed to be. We changed the appearance, but we couldn't disguise the memories.
When it became apparent that Mom couldn't deal with her grief, we decided she needed to start a new chapter of her life, and encouraged her to sell the house and move somewhere else. She was reluctant at first because of her promise, but we convinced her Dad wouldn't really want her to stay in a house where such a void existed.
We didn't figure on all the strange things that would happen: First, she couldn't sell because she didn't have an easement to the driveway...the only way into the yard. She had to go to court and gain access to a house she'd lived in for years. You know how tiring the legal system can be. It took a long time and a lot of effort.
Then the Real Estate agent told her that California Law required a home to have a carport or garage. Dad and my Uncles had transformed the old carport into an apartment for my grandmother. So, Mom had to invest money she didn't have in putting up a carport for a potential buyer. Dad hadn't left any insurance...there had never been money for a policy or a job that provided any.
The stress of selling and the hurdles took pounds off my mother and made her hair thin. I worried about her...as did my sisters and brother. But, one day someone did buy the house. Wanda. It was perfect for her daycare center, and her mother who lived with her.
She and Mom liked each other from the beginning, but Mom was warned by the agent NOT to divulge that someone had died in the home. Such news could possible drive the buyer away. So Mom stayed mum.
Mom then found another hurdle...a buying frenzy in the area she wanted. She had to camp out overnight to be in line to buy the home she wanted. I have to give her credit for perseverance... she got it. She and granny moved into their new "chapter."
Mom and Wanda stayed in touch for a while after the move as Mom had left a few boxes behind to be picked up later on. One day, Wanda called and asked my mother a most disturbing question.
"I know this sounds strange, but did your husband stand a certain way in front of the toilet...you know, when he peed?"
Mom was stunned. He had. Dad was a portly man and had developed a habit of leaning forward and putting his hands on the window sill. Wanda had been putting up curtains in the bathroom to replace the beaded valance Mom had left behind when she claimed to have heard a voice from behind her say, "Now, where will I put my hands."
Mom shared the information, amazed that Wanda would know something so personal. She was really shocked when Wanda asked, "Your husband died here, didn't he?"
I'm sure Mom didn't know what to say. Guilty for keeping the secret, reminded of her pain...what a myriad of emotions to deal with. But Wanda knew everything...how else could she tell Mom..."I think he must have died in the front bedroom because it's coldest in that room. And on certain nights, I'm sure he's in the master bedroom because my dog growls and won't go in there. Did he spend a lot of time in bed?"
The front bedroom had been the den, and Dad had spent most of his time in bed as his condition grew weaker. But Wanda also knew one more place Dad went.
"Your husband must have sat at the end of the bar in the kitchen a lot. That part of the room turns icy cold from time to time."
We were convinced. Dad was still 'living' in West Covina with Wanda. She wasn't afraid or threatened by him. It seems she was an empath and dealt with spirits. She assured Mom that she'd help Dad move on.
Well, Dad was stubborn. We assumed he was mad at us for selling the house and now he was going to stay there come hell or high water. It seemed strange to visit his grave but know he was still at Wanda's. *lol*
He stayed around for quite a while, but one day, Wanda called and told us Dad had finally passed to the other side. I guess he just missed Mom too much, and Wanda seemed like the type that wouldn't put up with his habits.
I miss my Dad, but at least I know he finally found peace even if it took a while. I hope there aren't any curtains in heaven.