Saturday, July 31, 2010

Monday, Feb. 19, 2007

We began with coffee, chats and fond memories, again. I woke at 5:30 a.m.. I had had insomnia and went downstairs to have a change of venue. I prepared a fire, nestled into the couch with a blanket overtop. I found that listening to CBC Radio: Deutsche Welle, helped. News from Germany lulled me with their voices and gentle tones. The headphones meant I didn’t wake anyone. Eventually I fell asleep and that was some much needed extra sleep. I was tired. The cats went upstairs to wake up Brian, who ought to be in the kitchen making coffee. They knew nothing happened without my getting coffee and then I gave orders from the day. I am supposed to be ‘she who is in charge’.

We hustled to get ready, lulled into a slow start to the day. Robin and I went back to the funeral home. I remember the parting words the last time we were there. One of the people that worked there said, “See you again.” I laughed at the. I knew I would but didn’t want to. We arranged more of the details and told Cathy the date we had chosen. She took copies of the birth certificate, marriage certificate. She asked if there was a will. I had to sign a paper that she would submit to the government for CPP. They give the estate $2500 death bonus. It wouldn’t pay for his burial.

Robin, Cathy and I went downstairs to see the other urn we had had our eye on since mom’s passing. We noticed it and thought it might be suitable for dad. It was either that or the painted slate cover with two loons on a lake, a spring scene. Mom’s scene was that of winter. We looked at the one that has two hockey players carved into the side of the wooden urn. What I thought was that we could hang the two slate paintings in the cottage, after we intern them in the summer. We began to come back upstairs. I was in the lead, Robin and then Cathy behind me. We left the main room and turned the corner to go into the hall. I remember that I had my handkerchief in my pocket. I reached for it. As I walked something fell out of my pocket. As I walked I accidentally kicked it.

By the time we spotted it Cathy was beside it. She picked it up. She couldn’t figure out what it was. It looked like something you would plug a hole with. It was a Rolo.  It was peculiar, since I hadn’t brought any with me. Brian had brought some to dad last week. I had started eating them the night before dad died as I sat in his room. They were in the basket we kept on dad’s dresser, with his hymn books and bible and his straw bear. I was wearing a long jacket that I had not worn in months. We were a bit spooked. I couldn’t figure out how it had gotten there. I felt it a nod from dad – that we were headed in the right direction.

I popped in to see Michelle in the home. I received lots of condolences from folks in the LTC Home. Robin and I took a break and had coffee and bagels at Oliver’s. From there we went to pay dad’s bill at the pharmacy. He had had endless pills. This might save me getting a bill later. This is something I had been doing for months.

We needed to have us sign papers as administrators – the legal term being “application for state trustee with will”. Mom’s estate still hadn’t been tied up, but it should be fairly easy, since she had a will and it all went to dad. We needed to list all of dad’s debts and assets, send the bill from the funeral home to the bank, transfer ownership of the van, change the van insurance, house insurance, file taxes for mom and dad for 2006, then dad for 2007. Once all that was done the will would be settled and we could disperse assets and call it a day. Well, it will take months! We will need endless copies of the death certificate, many places would only make the required changes with an ‘original’. The funeral home arranged for the death certificates.

On the way home we popped in to get mail. There was nothing there. Rob offered to put up the obituary on the little bulletin board they have for such a purpose. It  is a good way to let folks know in this small town. I went in a told the postmistress and she expressed her condolences, too. Everyone in town knew mom and dad. I gleaned much sympathy. It was comforting.

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