I left off with my mom coming down from the foothills to pick up Janice’s ashes. Well she had bought a little plot in the old historic “Gold Country” cemetery and that’s where she put Janice. She had a granite monument made and everything.
Back home where I lived, I was working as a waitress and I remember speaking to one of the customers about the experience I had of being with my sister when she died. He said I should think about becoming a “Grief Counselor”. He said that I should call the County Sheriff’s office and ask them about their program with Suicide Intervention and Grief Counseling.
I took his advice and enrolled into the program and felt like I had settled into my purpose in life. I was young then and had much to learn but I was on my way. This was in 1977 and 78. Moving ahead to 1991, I don’t remember who suggested it but I heard about a course called “Attitudinal Healing” that was going to be taught for people who were interested in helping people that had terminal illness’s. It was being taught by Dr. Jerry Jampolsky’s organization in Marin County…just north of San Francisco.
I enrolled in that training and was introduced to so much, not the least of which was “A Course In Miracles”. I remember on of the members of his organization telling her story about how she had gotten AIDS from her husband who she thought was as straight as a board but wasn’t. When it all came out because he had contracted the disease and had then passed it on to her, she wanted to know why he had felt he couldn’t tell her the truth. He reflected back to her the life long hatred she had had for “gay men” and in that moment, she saw herself and wanted to be different…to be healed. She took care of him with love while he died and she was led to become a counselor with Dr. Jampolsky’s group. She told us that getting AIDS was the best thing that ever happened to her because it had brought her to “The Truth” about who she was, who we all are. She devoted the rest of her life to taking care of dying “Gay Men”, loving everyone of them and feeling it a privilege to do the work.
Back at the ranch, my mom and dad were getting older and felt that it was time to move closer to me and my remaining sister and hospitals. I was managing a real estate office and helped them get a great home that was perfect for them. They were able to be in the same congregation as when I was that little five year old wanting to see the dead person. ”Pat” the Native American was even still there. Life was good.
Except…Janice was still up in Georgetown and it was really bothering me. I asked my mom if it bothered her that we had left Janice behind and I believe her comment was something like “What in the Sam Hill’s wrong with you? She’s not there…she’s gone. That’s just dust”. Southerners talk like that. I knew I shouldn’t have brought it up to her so I went to my dad. I asked him if it was bothering him and he said “I think about it every day”.
I told my mom that like it or not…it was bothering both me and my dad and I wanted to get her ashes out of there. So my mom arranged for me to be able to go get them. I remember thinking it wasn’t something I could ask anyone else to do with me. It was a job for the Lone Ranger…but I sure needed a Tonto.
On the way up there, I remember thinking “I bet I can find a strong young man that would help me dig her up for $20.00 bucks. I pulled into the tiny town and went into the little store and there was a kid about 16 years old with his mom and they were speaking to the woman behind the counter in a lazy way, just shooting the breeze. I got up my courage and approached them and said I had a very strange request. I told them what I needed and the boy’s mother asked him if that was something he could do and he said “Sure”. So we were off to the Cemetery. Now I had only brought one shovel and I felt that I needed to help him dig because she was just in a tupperware container somewhere in a regular grave size plot and I knew that it would take some digging to find her.
So I screwed up my courage again and went to the house next to the cemetery and asked to borrow a shovel. They looked at me sort of strange but loaned me one anyway.
It didn’t take too long to find her and the kid even helped me load the headstone into the back of my Jeep and I was off for home. I put the headstone in my back yard under a tree but there was no way Janice was going back into the ground. She was going into my house in a safe place. My mom and my sister still thought me and my dad were a bit nuts on the subject but we were content. I had her back and now it was time to start working on my mom and dad. I needed to convince them to be cremated. By this time, I knew that I had probably lived a past life in China or somewhere that the remains of ancestors are revered and protected and carried from place to place.
I remember having a conversation with my dad about caskets. He wanted me to go with him to pick out a casket for him and my mom. He wanted to have everything taken care of so that when he and my mom died, my sister and I wouldn’t have to do anything but say goodbye.
We went to the place where they had their plots and with my mom’s admonition in mind (“I want the cheapest pine box they got…I’ll only be dust!”) we looked at their selection of caskets. Well, the “Pine Box” was the most expensive casket they had and the cheapest one was over two thousand dollars. My mom hit the roof at the cost and even thought they were comfortable (not wealthy but very comfortable), they had gone through the depression and she was thrifty to the bone. She said “That does it! I’m being cremated”. In my heart I was saying “Yipee…I get to have her because that creeps my sister out and she won’t want them”.
Well a few years after that, my dad’s Prostrate cancer came back and it was a downhill slide for him. I had always told my dad that I would never allow him or my mom to go to any kind of facility and I remember him saying “Kid…you may not have a choice”. My response was “Wanna bet? Just watch me”. I knew with every fiber of my being that there was nothing that would get in my way when it came to taking care of my parents. Don’t forget, I had learned about “Commitment” and that when you are truly committed, providence moves to aid you in that commitment.
I must say that I was fortunate at that time to have a very loving understanding boss that allowed me to work from my dad’s bedside on Fridays which allowed me and my sister to take turns being with him and my mom at the end, and that allowed him to die at home.
More about those few rich months in the next post…and once again, thanks so much for traveling this journey with me. Sharon
