I Thought the Hard Part Was Over. It Wasn't Even the Hard Part.
Kathy told me this morning that she is feeling a heaviness in our house. This is the result of my sister Janet’s death. She brought this up because I walked into our living room to have morning coffee with Kathy, and the first thing I said was, “Good morning, Janet.”
Why did I give my dead sister this greeting?
The Urn containing her ashes is sitting on the floor in the corner of our living room.
My first reaction to Kathy telling me about her “heaviness” is to cut and run. I didn’t want to deal with Kathy’s heavy feeling because I was feeling the same way. I didn’t want to admit it.
When I spoke, I said, “I feel the same way. Her death has brought us into a new season. Something new. Something we didn’t expect.”
It reminded me of my friend Sheri Dresser’s comment when I moved my sister from Miami to Atlanta.
My sister turned eighty, and she began having health issues. I was flying back and forth to help. On one of the visits,s her doctors told me she can’t live alone. I had to decide whether to continue supporting her by helping her commute or bringing her to me.
The prep for the move was difficult.
Kathy, my sister, and I were going through fifty years of accumulation. We threw out what was deemed unnecessary. We packed the rest. I called my buddy Chuck, who lives in Florida and has a trailer. We set a date for the move, met, packed, and hopped in his truck, heading for Atlanta.
Then I had to fly my sister up here. This included flight reservations but also help from her neighbors who were kind enough to get her packed, to the airport, and on a plane.
Finally, I had to find a realtor to sell the condo. That started another whole process.
You get it. Lots of stuff to do. Which included: Getting Power of Attorney. Getting access to banks, credit unions, and other assets. Crazy and completely consuming!
It all got done.
I furnished my sister’s new Assisted Living apartment. I moved all her stuff with my friend’s help. I get Janet in the room. Fill her refrigerator. Show her around her new facility. And then leave.
As I walked to the elevator in her building, I took a deep cleansing breath. The project is done. It will all go well from here. I walk into the parking lot and see an old friend from Atlanta Tech and fellow church member, Sherri Dresser. She told me her mother has been in this same facility for the last six months.
I said, “I finally got my sister up here and settled into her new place. It is done. What a relief!”
Sheri stared at me. I must have stunned her with what I said.
She broke her silence by saying, “Done? This is just the beginning. You have no idea. I am sorry to tell you this.”
And now, after this conversation with Kathy, I realize it is Kathy telling me: “Done? This is just the beginning. You have no idea. I am sorry to tell you this.” She continued, “It took me a year to begin dealing with my father’s death.”
Then it became clear to me. Janet was in my life for 73 years (my age). She was in Kathy’s life for 49 years. Her death ended the caregiver chapter of our lives. Her death started a new chapter of grieving and reconciliation. We are in a new season.
The last season was active caregiving. This season is about winding down our caregiving.
This includes dealing with the vestiges of Janet’s life:
Her art - Lots of works and big pieces
Her family and friends’ photos
Photos + slides of her work
Her website
Her journals from over the years
Her friends who want some of her art and other items to remember her by
Her financial + legal issues
The Urn that contains her ashes
We are now living in the Janet Paparelli Museum; this is a big part of the heaviness. What do we do with all this stuff!
What do I do with the urn that contains Janet?
So what does the future of this new season of my sister’s death mean? What needs to be done? What emotions need to be addressed by me, by Kathy, by Kathy and me together, by my daughter, by my sons, by Janet’s friends?
I have no idea what is coming and how it will affect Kathy and me. But as Sheri said when I brought Janet up to Atlanta, “This is just the beginning.”
Final Thought
Kathy and I made a pact. Over the next couple of years, we need to get rid of our stuff so our kids don’t find themselves sitting in the Kathy and Charlie Museum after our deaths.