It’s hard to know how to react in a situation like that. My mom was too hysterical to talk with, but I called my brother to let him know, and we both rushed down from Lawrence to Wichita to see her.
It’s been a turbulent couple of days, but I wasn’t really emotionally involved until tonight.

First, a little history. Mom and Rick had been married 7 years, and a roller-coaster of 7 years it was. Despite their mutual dream of being able to buy and fix up houses to later resell, their finances wouldn’t cooperate. Rick got his general contractor’s license and started up his own company.

Despite his skill with the construction work, he compassionate nature led to its downfall. He would always refuse to charge more than his estimate, even if the estimate was generous to begin with. He also seemed to have great difficulty with people upholding contracts. Despite the assistance from my grandparents, the business eventually went under, accruing mountains of debt. Their house was mortgaged, and eventually sold. Later, they filed for bankruptcy.

He was an honorable man, and the guilt he felt for not being able to properly support my mom put great stresses on him. He was a smoker, and loved to eat. Consequently, he had horrible cardiovascular health. He quit a few times, but it never seemed to stick. Fed up with his inability to find steady work in Wichita. He returned to his home state of California alone to find employment. He was willing to leave behind my mom and wanted to send money back to her. That’s when he had his first heart-attack, on a job site. Mom rushed out to be with him. He recovered, and they both returned home.

Mom really wanted to help him improve his health, and attempted to get him to quit smoking and eat healthier. But despite her best efforts, his stubborn streak won out.

He tried to find employment again with what seemed an excellent opportunity in Houston, TX. It seemed like it was working out great at first, though my mom always missed him. He was her life, so she always made sure they were able to talk on the phone every night. But again, the company he was working for fell through, and he was forced to return empty-handed. Fortunately, he always had the loving arms of my mom, always supportive, to welcome him home. She didn’t care that he failed, only that she was with him again.

Which brings us back to three nights ago. Thy went to a movie, Letters From Iwo Jima (directed by one of his favorite actors, Clint Eastwood), after dinner at his favorite Mexican buffet. Shortly after the movie began, he left the theater to get some air, perhaps he thought he was having heartburn from his hefty dinner. Things started to get worse when the ushers came into the theater in lieu of Rick to get my mom. Rick wanted to go home. After the left, Rick became increasingly agitated and uncomfortable, never revealing to mom the true intensity of his pain. She already had in mind the hospital (which he hated to go to, trying his best to be a manly man), but when he began to have seizure and arch back into his seat, she floored it for the hospital, probably breaking every traffic law in the process. She flew through the parking garage (she had come from the wrong side of the hospital to go straight to the ER) and got him help immediately. Unfortunately, by then it was too late. The emergency room crew valiantly tried to save him. Worked for nearly an hour, but he was gone. A massive heart attack. Nothing my mom could have done.

We all knew that he wasn’t going to live until a ripe old age, but it just seemed too soon. He had just gotten in contact with a good cardiologist, and things were looking up, but I guess it was too late.

My mom has been trying to work hard on setting up funeral arrangements everyone would be happy with, along with the support of our extended family here in Wichita. Unfortunately, it hasn’t just been stressful on my mom, but on her late husband’s children as well. Though Rick was originally from California (and his daughter and mother, as well as a few siblings are still located there), he was in love with the midwest. He loved westerns and Nascar, and especially OU football. He was part of an Old-Town (Wichita’s preserved, 19th century district) performance group with my mom, where he got to act the part of wild west gunslinger, complete with belt and wide-brimmed hat. He was proud of his Native American ancestry and wanted to be laid to rest in the cemetery where his grandmother is in Oklahoma. It’s about an hour-and-a-half drive, but mom felt it was worth it to honor his wishes. Mom had contacted Rick’s mother, and before she even brought it up, his mother suggested he be buried in Oklahoma. His son agreed.

Everything was going fairly well as can be expected during a time of mourning, then the worst happened. One of Rick’s relatives began experiencing a bit of a mental breakdown. She insisted that Rick by transported to California for a family burial, against his and my mother’s wishes. Mom really wanted to stay true to what Rick wanted. Despite his flaws, she was deeply committed to him. They were both old-fashioned romantics. Mom tried to make the funeral on Saturday so that family could make sure to get time off, get plane tickets, etc, doing what she could to accommodate and include the family from out of town. But this relative just couldn’t see it. She was blinded by her own mental state and became quite hysterical. She then suggested cremation and dividing the ashes, but Rick always insisted that he hated the idea of cremation. Mom tried to politely convince this woman to let him go to Oklahoma, but she wouldn’t have it.

Then what was hysteria, delved into paranoia. She began to accuse my mother of horrible things, such as intentionally killing him (on their anniversary no less), and trying to get insurance money (of which there is very little). She began demanding an autopsy be performed and was even threatening to throw mom in jail (for what, I’m not sure). This back and forth had been going on all day. With mom going through her own mourning and stress, she was getting worn out and exhausted. During the last conversation, it was really getting out of hand (though my mom was trying to stay as calm and understanding as she could, she knew this woman’s was getting to her).

But after accusing my mom of attempting to murder the man she loved most in this world, I took the phone, attempting to calm this relative down. Despite my best efforts, she couldn’t be mellowed, much less agree to any sort of compromise. Mom was even willing to fly to California to help with a memorial service for him there (despite her lack of funds to do so).

This was all devastating to mom. Despite her distance with Rick’s family in California, she always tried to be part of the family. She thought of his grandchildren of her own, and dreamed of the day when they could have enough money to go visit them whenever they wanted. To be deeply hated, as seemed to be the case, and suspected by those very people who were her best ties to Rick, was devastating to her.

At this point, I didn’t know what else could go wrong. My mom, one of the most loving, sweet, caring, strong, independent, capable women I have ever known, had been dealt one bad hand after another. Two divorces, poverty, bankruptcy, the death of her husband, and now this. Could it get any worse?

Fortunately, relief came shortly. About a half-hour later, his relative called back and left a message on our machine, apologizing in tears for what she had said. I quickly called her back and thanked her. It was like talking to a different woman. She didn’t mean the things she had said, and seemed to feel truly awful for those conversations. With as much compassion I could muster, I told her how we wanted her to be a part of this time in all our lives, and a part of our family. She seemed touched and remorseful (a far cry from the petulant, paranoid, and accusatory tone she held earlier). I could only imagine how the grief and stress had affected her, and could not bear to hold her entirely accountable for what had happened earlier.

Now we all feel somewhat relieved. It seems that now we can finally put this unpleasant episode behind us. And maybe keep a little bit of the family together, as well.

The most confusing part of the whole ordeal was what happened with Rick’s son. He had just begun boot camp for the Utah National Guard. He is only allowed one phone call per day, so our communication with him has been tenuous. He has a fiance that’s been trying to help us track him down. They were both planning on flying into Wichita on Friday, but after this incident with Rick’s relative began, things changed. He sternly called his fiance and told her to change her flight back to California. “But,” she told him, “your father is in Kansas.” “I’ll explain tomorrow,” he said. this relative must have convinced him of her new plan, and things had gotten quite confused.

After she called back to apologize and things started to clear up, it was almost as if she hadn’t realized what she’d done by diverting his son back to California. How were they to get him back to Wichita for the funeral now? Hopefully, the remainder of these issues can be sorted out without further incident. Goodness knows, my mom needs no further drama for quite awhile.

I don’t know if this’ll be here for long. Just thought it’d be good to describe it all.

Obituary in the paper.