November 11th, 2007……………………………Let’s Try Again
I called him on November 11th and left a message asking him if he would like to have lunch with me on his way through town, that I missed him so much I was wearing his shirts. I always wore his shirts when I missed him. It made me feel closer to him.
He called back and left me the most beautiful, love-filled message I have ever heard. He said he had prayed I would invite him to stop so we could talk in person. My husband actually said he had prayed, and coming from a self-proclaimed atheist, that meant a lot to me.
The next morning he called me when he left Destin, excited about stopping to see me. About two hours into the trip he called again worried about his car. He wasn‘t sure what was going on. It was running rough and instead of getting his normal 43mpg he was getting about 20mpg, but he wasn’t going to stop until he reached my side.
I laughed and told him I would meet him at the garage at the end of the street and asked him to call me when he got into town. I had rescheduled my afternoon appointment so we could spend the rest of the day together. I was on my way to bid on a deck job and was looking forward to his call when he got closer.
I kept my appointment and rushed home to tidy up a bit. I figured he would be calling me at any moment so I started down to my truck. As I was starting my truck he called to tell me the mechanic had looked at the car but didn’t have time to do the repair. All it needed was a set of spark plug wires.
He left the mechanic’s yard and I left ours and drove up to meet him. We were so excited about seeing each other we were talking over each other and finishing each other’s sentences.
He invited me to ride with him to get the parts the same time I was telling him I wanted to ride with him… we laughed and said simultaneously, “I can’t wait to see you!”
We couldn’t stop talking to each other and then I said, “I see you. You just turned onto my sight.”
He said, “Where are you? Oh, there you are,” he laughed, lovingly.
I said, “I can’t wait to be in your arms,” and hung up.
He pulled his car to the side of the road and I pulled my truck in front of him. Our vehicles were nose to nose and we jumped out and ran towards each other and embraced. It was better than any movie scene I have ever seen! We kissed and hugged as though we would never let go.
Lunch turned into dinner and I invited him to spend the night. He said, “I don’t have to be in Key West until 5pm tomorrow” and we laughed and ate and loved each other as though we had never been apart. He drove my truck in to get his spark plug wires and I sat in the passenger seat realizing how much I loved him. He drove back and switched the new wires with the old ones and started the car. It ran perfectly.
He left at 5am to be in Key West for his early evening gig after driving around in circles and waving and laughing. I had no idea it would be the last time he would do that.
We spent the next few days on the phone A LOT; vowing to never let the shit hit the fan again. We would work this out. We loved each other. We were soul mates and we were supposed to be together. We did not want to live apart.
I drove to Key West to be with him for the Thanksgiving holiday. Our new neighbors in Dixie County were going to meet us at the Hogs Breath. They had never seen him play before and they were in for a great treat.
We had a wonderful 18 days together, holding hands, doing yoga, walking, and just BEING together. He wrote in the “Bruce and Red” blog on the internet to all his friends and fans around the world, “If you see a beautiful woman in the audience that looks like Diane, it is! We realized we couldn’t be apart so we are back together and we are a force to be reckoned with!”
We were, once again, ‘rock and rolls most beautiful couple’ and holding hands in the public eye for all to see.
I joked and explained to him I had saved every loving email he had written while he was trying to convince me we could work it out. I told him, “In 6 months from now when things start to slide downhill again I am going to send them to you to remind you how much you love me and how much I mean to you.” He laughed and said it wouldn’t be necessary. He wasn’t going back to “Rude-Red” ever again.
We had fun in Key West and headed to Key Largo. I was his number one groupie, at his side, once again and life was good.
Everyone was rejoicing at our reconnection. It felt so right.
We traveled north together, in separate vehicles, to spend the week relaxing at our home on the lake. We spoke of the possibility of driving to the mountain to return my belongings to our home there but decided to simplify our lives and just stay at the lake. There was no hurry.
We spent the next 4 days in wedded bliss. He would get up in the morning and stretch and work on the guitar he was building and I would stretch with him and then go to work on the jobs I had going; finishing a closet, repairing a deck, etc.
I had never felt so good with him and I had never seen him so relaxed and happy.
The last day of my husband’s life was truly the happiest day we ever spent together. We got up and had coffee. I went in to teach a yoga lesson at The Center and then returned to spend a glorious afternoon with him.
We laughed and went for a walk and held hands and packed for our scheduled trip the following morning. We were actually going to ride together to the Keys for the weekend’s gigs and come back for another week at home on the lake. Maybe we would bring my belongings back to the mountain then but maybe we would just stay at the lake and he could work on the guitars he was building. No hurries, no worries.
I had a presentation at the local middle school that evening. I had been considering starting a yoga program for the kids and when they invited me to speak I jumped at the chance. I asked Red if he wanted to go along and he said he would love to be my roadie for a change.
He helped me carry my posters in and chatted with some of the folks who were there. He found a local musician and they exchanged a few stories. I walked up just in time to hear him say for the umpteen-millionth time, “Yep, I have been drunk on 5 continents.” The man he was speaking to laughed and said that was one of the reasons he had given up the music business.
I spoke to the group and as I was taking my final bow to a great round of applause I saw Red sitting there smiling and clapping. It brought tears to my eyes to see him so proud of me and how beautiful it was to have switched positions with him.
After we left there he kept saying what a great job I had done. I said, “Let’s go to Petrellos and have a glass of wine to celebrate.” It had been 3 whole days since we’d any alcohol; the longest time he had gone without a drink since we’d been together.
He said he thought that would be great; that he had really enjoyed taking time off drinking and that glass of wine was going to taste really good.
We arrived at the quiet restaurant and toasted each other at the bar. There was a nice young man behind the bar and we laughed and talked with him for awhile. Red admired his fake leg and he said, “Yeah, I figure some people lose a loved one, all I have lost is my leg.” Within the hour I would begin to experience what it was like to lose a loved one.
Paulie, the owner, came out and closed the doors to the public and we sat and laughed with him and his friend and had another glass of wine. Red promised to bring his fiddle next time and I could tell he was feeling great about life.
All the way home he talked of how he was going to start playing at Petrellos. He would learn a bunch of Frank Sinatra songs and surprise Paulie. He was going to cut back on playing on the road and get more into building guitars. He wanted to start a life for himself with me here in Dixie County. It sounded so good.
Then we were home tearing off each other’s clothes and rushing to the bedroom. We’d been making passionate love for 30 minutes or so when he gasped and stiffened. I knew immediately something was very, very wrong.
November 30, 2007, 12:12am………Red’s Exit; Stage Left
What I had been dreading, what I had occasionally envisioned, and spoken of to my closest friends and family was happening.
This man, who had come into the movie of my life so abruptly, while I was on my way to the ashram to serve God, was exiting even more quickly than he had appeared. Now it was his turn to change the script and leave me, alone. I felt his Spirit fall through me. It felt like the Spirit of the bird I had hit with my truck and killed just a few weeks before.
I threw his body off of me screaming his name. I began CPR pushing on his sternum rhythmically and looking at his half-closed, expressionless eyes. I knew he was already gone as with the first push his urine squirted on me. I remember being with a friend’s dog who died and had eliminated immediately. Oh my God this wasn’t really happening. Maybe I could help bring him back.
I ran and grabbed my cell phone which was in the living room and fortunately still on. I wouldn’t have to wait for it to power up. I knew every second counted.
The time was 12:12am and I dialed 911 wondering if they would be able to transfer me. I have a 305 area code and I was in the 352 area code. I blew into his mouth his chest rose. His airway was clear.
I listened to the woman on the other end of the phone while I breathed for him again and watched his chest rise and explained to her I needed someone in the 352 area code. She asked what county I was in and I answered Dixie County. She connected me immediately.
I was crying and counting and pushing on his chest when Dixie County emergency came on the line. I gave them my physical address and explained I lived near the boat ramp. They were on their way.
I was checking the position of his head and my hands and counting and pushing and crying. I was working on him in total disbelief. I picked up my phone and cried to the woman, I knew he was gone but I was going to keep trying. She was encouraging me to keep doing CPR and the crew would be there any moment.
I remember seeing the lights of the emergency crews appear in the yard and hung up the phone at 12:21am. I remember thinking what a great response time and ran to open the front door. I put on a dress I found on the floor and ran back to Red’s body.
The ambulance crew yelled in the door and I called to them and told them I was in the back. They dashed in and asked how long he had been out. I told them I’d called 911 seconds after he collapsed at 12:12am.
They checked their watches, grabbed him and pulled him onto the floor. I asked if I should have done that and they said no. It was just to allow them room to work on him.
They asked if he had any health problems and I answered no.
The woman started CPR and I asked if there was anything I could do to help. She said I could continue with the CPR while they set up their equipment. I took her place and as she opened up her bag she watched me and told me I was doing a good job and to keep it up.
I turned my head as they put the tube into his mouth and down his throat. He wasn’t gagging, and I was trying not to, and they asked me to stop CPR. They were going to start an IV with a solution to try to bring him back.
I positioned myself so I could hold his hand and I watched them do their job. I threw a tee shirt over his private parts and giggled nervously and said, “He’d appreciate that. He’s shy.” The tee shirt had a heart on it and said LOVE, and somehow, that was appropriate. I was trying not to cry too loudly. I didn’t want to distract them.
I whimpered while they worked on him and other emergency crew people appeared in the doorway. I was sitting inside my closet and realized my husband’s hand was growing cold.
I said, “His hand is getting cold. He’s never cold.” My Red was never cold. He was always there to warm me up.
After several minutes and 4 bags of different liquids I heard them say, they were so sorry. There was nothing they could do. He was gone.
I was aware of one of them walking out of the room and trying to make a call on their cell phone. The other stayed with me and watched as I sobbed in disbelief, holding my dead husband’s hand, putting my head on his chest one last time.
I wondered if his spirit was floating around the room, watching in disbelief too. I told him I was so sorry I couldn’t save him and that I loved him so. I told him he would be ok and tried to comfort his spirit.
I came back to reality when I realized they were all trying to call out on their cell phones unsuccessfully. There was no service. I realized I wasn’t doing Red or myself any good sitting there sobbing, talking to the air. I dropped his cold hand. I couldn’t bear to look at his half opened eyes anymore either. It was just a body laying there which his soul used to live in. He wasn’t here any more and there was nothing I could do about it.
I walked out into the living room where the other emergency crew people were still trying to call out on their cell phones. No one had any service and did not understand why. They asked if I had a land line and what funeral home would I like him to go to. I asked if there were any in Dixie County. “Only one,” they answered.
I unplugged the phone line to my computer and plugged it into the telephone and said the local one would be fine. I guessed we would have his service here. His parents were only an hour away and this was my home.
They explained there would have to be an autopsy because he’d had no history of ill health. He would have to be taken to Gainesville. The funeral parlor would transport him and then bring him back and do whatever I asked them to do with his body. The director of the funeral home was on his way.
I remember thinking and then saying I wasn’t decent in my house dress and they said I was fine. I was standing next to a chair with Red’s shirt draped over the back. I put it on over my dress as the funeral parlor owner arrived. He came in and introduced himself and I shook the hand of the man who owned the only funeral parlor in Dixie County.
They asked if there was a place I could sit where I wouldn’t have to watch them remove the body. I looked at the woman who had tried to save my husband’s life and asked her if she would come with me to the spare bedroom. I didn’t want to be alone.
She agreed and walked back with me. I glanced in to my bedroom long enough to see the shape of my husband’s body under the white sheet. I kept telling myself, “He’s gone, Diane. That isn’t him. He’s gone.”
We entered the spare bedroom and shut the door and I began telling her about my husband and what a great musician he was.
We listened to them struggle with the body. I told her I knew how hard it was to move around ‘dead’ weight. I had worked for a quadriplegic for 9 years and there’s nothing heavier than someone who cannot move and Red definitely could not move.
I tried to laugh, nervously, and talk over the noise of their actions. Within minutes they knocked on the door and said I could come out. I looked in to the bedroom and could see the impression his body had made in the carpet and smelt a funky odor. That is what death smells like. I remembered it from the dead dog and the dead boss I’d been with who had died from a heart attack back in 1980. I guess those two instances had somewhat prepared me for what happened today, November 30, 2007.
Once the hearse left the yard, they asked me who I could call to come and stay with me and I told them I would be alright. I didn’t need anyone. They insisted I call someone, and thank God they did. There are just some times one shouldn’t be alone.
I called my friend and acupuncture physician, Dr. Susan, and fortunately she answered her cell phone at 1:21am. When I heard her sleepy, “Hello,” I apologized for waking her and explained that Red had died of a heart attack and asked if she would please come over and stay with me as the emergency crew said I should not be alone. She, too, was in total
disbelief, but would be there as soon as possible.
What had seemed like hours of agony had only been one hour of my life. That hour replays over and over in my head like a bad movie, a nightmare. Kriya Yoga teaches one to sit outside oneself and watch as though we are “The One” watching. I think I handled myself as well as anyone could have, crying and joking nervously and crying some more.
They explained there was a sheriff who needed to ask me some questions and asked if it was okay for him to come in now. “Of course,” was my immediate answer.
He asked for social security numbers and phone numbers and date of birth and time of death and what we had done before my husband had died. I told him we had not had anything to drink for 3 days, that we had shared a small bottle of wine and asked the people in the room if that could have killed him?
Everyone in the room answered simultaneously, “No.”
I guess that made me feel better, but I’d heard of artists who had been heavy drinkers for years, who quit drinking and then abruptly died. Jerry Garcia was one of my husband’s favorite entertainers and I believe he died shortly after he cleaned up his act following years of abuse to his body. I remember thinking, “If we don’t take care of our bodies, we won’t have any place to live. I wonder where Red is now. Was he with Jerry?”
While the emergency crew and I sat on the deck in the starlit night waiting for Dr. Susan I talked about the wonderful man my husband was; how he’d won the Florida Fiddler’s contest several years in a row and how he always had a smile from ear to ear on his face, especially while he was on stage. He always said, “If you love your work you never have to work a day in your life.” I guess I wanted them to know he was more than just a dead body on the way to the morgue. I also wanted to talk and not think about what would happen next.
Dr. Susan arrived and spoke to the 2 people who remained from the ambulance crew about what they had done. She’d been an RN for 35+ years in trauma centers and understood everything they had done.
Once they left she gave me a pill explaining it was a Chinese herb to help with the heart shock I had just experienced.
She suggested I call his family. At first I said there was nothing they could do this time of the night, why didn’t I wait till the morning? She said I needed to call them now. She was right. I remembered the phone call I had to make to my friends who were on vacation when their dog had died and how badly I felt then. I felt badly now breaking the news of their loss to his mother, father, sister and brother.
I tried his parents’ home phone. I knew they had just moved to a new home in Ocala and were experiencing phone line problems, as Red and I had had difficulty during the day yesterday trying to reach them. We were supposed to have breakfast with them in the morning on our way to Key West.
When I couldn’t get through I called their cell phones and left a message for them to call me as soon as they could trying not to sound as though their son had just died.
I looked for Red’s brother’s phone number and dialed it knowing he would probably be up at 2am. He worked on the Internet and this was in the middle of his work day as it was a quiet time on line. He is also a musician and used to keeping late hours.
When I got him on the line, he asked how I was doing and I said not very well, but I was doing better than his brother. He had had a heart attack about an hour ago and was gone.
“What, Larry’s gone?” he screamed in disbelief over and over. “Have you called Mom and
Dad?” I told him I had tried them but couldn’t get through. He asked if I had called his sister. I said I hadn’t. His was the first phone number I had found. He said he would get her on the phone and call me back.
He did, we talked, we cried and we talked some more. They said they would take care of getting in touch with their parents. His sister told me she would be booking a flight for the next day and I should have the service on Sunday.
I hoped it would be possible and said I would do my best. There was nothing else to talk about so we hung up.
Once I had made the phone calls to his family Dr. Susan explained she was disappointed she hadn’t gotten there before they had taken Red’s body away. She said she wanted to make sure his spirit was gone. She had been able to see spirits since she was a child and believed she could help him understand he was dead.
Apparently, according to people who understand the life after life concept, often times when someone leaves this world abruptly and unexpectedly the way Red did they don’t realize what has happened and need help in moving on.
I cried, we talked and I cried some more and told her I realized I was in a state of shock.
We brewed some chamomile tea and the pot lid kept jumping and moving on the stove. We both knew it was Red but said nothing. She later told me she had felt his presence throughout the night and we both heard unexplained noises but made no comment.
I asked her if she would help me strip the bed where Red had died. I realized I was going to have financial difficulties. I had to clean things up so I could use them again. I started a load of laundry and wiped the mattress off with vinegar and water even though there was nothing there. I turned the fan on to make sure it would dry completely. We could flip it over in the morning.
I lit some sage and cleansed the house not necessarily wanting his spirit to leave but wanting the smell of decay to be gone.
I told her I would lie down in the spare bedroom while she slept on the couch and she agreed. After a while I could hear her snoring and it made me feel better. At least she would be able to get some sleep. I lied in the bed for a couple of hours but sleep was out of the question.
This wasn’t really happening, was it? It couldn’t be.
November 30, 2007……………………My Opening Act, Alone
After tossing and turning and crying for hours I realized I was wasting time and stressing myself out by trying to sleep. It seemed like a good time to get up and clean out the closet of the belongings he had just put in there so happily yesterday. We had just gotten back together and we were going to live happily ever after.
This movie’s plot had changed abruptly. What was the director thinking?
I went through all his pockets, whimpering and thinking I might find some explanation. Why had he died? He looked good and said he’d felt great. I found nothing.
I kept his favorite tee shirts because I always wore them when we were apart and I missed him. I realized I would be missing him a lot and put the rest of his clothes in a bag and lied down in the back of the house in the spare bedroom’s bed again.
At about 6:30am I called my parents. They were early risers and they would probably still be in bed but they would be awake by now. I could hear myself telling my mother I was sorry to call so early and she asked what was wrong. There is always something wrong when someone calls so early. I listened to my voice say my husband had a heart attack and died a few hours before.
She gasped and explained to my father what had happened and asked if someone was there with me. I told her my friend, Dr. Susan, was here and she would be until someone else could come and stay with me. My mother explained she couldn’t come to Florida because of her recent knee surgery but she would call my sister and maybe she could get away and be by my side.
I told her that wouldn’t be necessary; I would call Joshua, my oldest son in Orlando, in a little while and see when he could come up. She said she would call her anyway.
I called my youngest son, Jason, a grad student at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. He was shocked and upset and wanted to come down and I told him to stay where he was. His studies were so important.
I would be ok. I was a survivor.
I called Joshua’s phone, knowing he wouldn’t be up for hours, and left a message for him to call me as soon as he awoke.
I kept thinking, this isn’t really happening, is it?
It can’t possibly be happening. My God, he’s only 51.
He’d been looking better than he had in years. He’d lost a few pounds, said he was feeling great and had thanked me for inspiring him to do so. He’d been riding his bike, drinking less alcohol, and eating better. What had happened? Why did he die? Would my questions ever be answered?
My sister called and insisted on coming down and I realized it would be good to have her here. She said she was so sorry this had happened to me and she would call me back to let me know when she could get a flight.
I could hear Dr. Susan in the living room calling her patients who were scheduled for the day and explaining she had to cancel their appointments. She had to be with a friend whose husband had died of a heart attack in the middle of the night.
I called Karen, my best friend in the Keys, about 7:30am, knowing she would be up soon if she wasn’t already. She didn’t answer her phone, so I called another friend, Rainey, who lived upstairs, apologizing immediately for calling so early in the morning. She asked, “What’s wrong?”
When I told her Red had died, she screamed in disbelief, “NO, Diane, that can’t be. Oh, my God, are you ok?”
I answered yes, but no, and told her Dr. Susan was with me and I could hear Karen in the background asking what was wrong. She’d heard the phone ring upstairs after she hadn’t answered hers and knew something was up. Rainey filled her in and they both began crying. I told them I had a phone call coming in I had to take. I just wanted them to know what had happened.
It was Joshua calling to tell me he’d talked to Jason and he was so sorry he couldn’t rush right up. He had to work that evening but would drive up tomorrow. I told him that was fine and I would let him know when my sister’s flight was arriving in Orlando so he could bring her with him.
I called my cell phone company and had Red’s calls forwarded to my phone because I couldn’t find his. The phone calls began pouring in. The coconut telegraph, as we call our networking in the Florida Keys, was working faster than ever. No one could believe it and wanted to talk to Red, to me, to hear he was still alive.
I wished I could have told them he hadn’t died, that it was a rumor like a couple of years ago when someone named Diane had been killed in a bicycle accident and everyone knew I rode a bike all the time. They all called me to see if I was ok. I was happy to tell them I was fine, it was someone else named Diane in that tragic accident.
This time I couldn’t tell them it was someone else. Our Red was gone.
The card for our life insurance agent was on the kitchen counter. I had told Red just yesterday he needed to talk to him about some money market accounts and safer investments. The stocks he’d had invested our money in were losing value daily. Those stocks were probably one of the reasons my husband was so stressed all the time. Watching our savings diminish had to be disheartening.
I called the insurance agent and told him Red had died. He pulled the file while we were talking and said the claim would be contested as the policy was less than two years old. It was standard procedure to investigate circumstances around a death on a policy less two years old.
Great, not only was my husband dead but now I had to worry whether or not I was going to get any financial help. According to the agent it would take a minimum of four months and up to a year before I would even know whether or not there would be any money awarded me.
Well, I had a little money I could get to so I would be okay, for awhile.
Dr. Susan offered to stay with me throughout the day Friday and again Friday night. My sister and my son were going to arrive sometime on Saturday. Yes, that would be a good idea.
Breathe deeply, Diane. With a little help from your friends you are going to be just fine.
Before we left my house to go to Dr. Susan’s home to check on her elderly mother and get some of her belongings she suggested I might want to get online and move money from accounts with both of our names on them to an account with only my name on it.
I’d heard about people having trouble getting money from accounts they’d shared with spouses who died and realized I should listen to her advice. I sat at my laptop, fighting my way through the system and my tears and began moving money. Fortunately, I’d gotten passwords for the stock market and mutual fund accounts 18 days ago when Red and I had gotten back together. The Universe had been watching out for me.
Once I had done all I could do we drove into The Center where Dr. Susan and I worked to get some more herbs for my well-being and to check her calendar to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anyone who needed to see her today. She also got numbers so she could rebook her patients for the following day. I assured her I could spend a few hours alone on Saturday waiting for my sister and son. I had plenty to do.
I received a call from the man who owned the funeral parlor. He wanted me to know my husband was on the way back to Cross City. He told me his secretary would be calling to find out when I would be able to meet with him. I asked him if they would be able to do the service Sunday afternoon. Yes, he thought they had an opening but his secretary would confirm that when she called to make my appointment.
Everything was falling into place perfectly. Thank God he had died when he did. If it had been 24 hours earlier we would not have enjoyed the most beautiful day of our lives together. If it had been 24 hours later we would have been in Key Largo in our motor home and my life would have been much more difficult. His parents were close and his sister and much of his family would be able to fly into Orlando easily. Well, I guess I had a lot of things to be thankful for, “Count your blessings, Diane and breathe.” I realized I would have to do a service at our mountain home in Georgia next week. I wanted to start spreading his ashes on the mountain as that was his favorite place on earth. Besides, I needed to get as much out of that house as possible. Things to sell and things I wanted because I was afraid foreclosure would happen quickly when I stopped paying the mortgage.
I had to call the men he played music with, Ted Hyde in Key Largo and Bruce Isaacson in Key West. I left both of them messages to call me as soon as they could. After a few hours I still had not heard from Ted and realizing Red was supposed to play with him in about 7 hours I called the bar to let them know Red wouldn’t be there. He had died of a heart attack the night before. The person I spoke to thanked me for calling and gave me their condolences.
Dr. Susan and I spent the day together, she taking care of her business and watching over me while I was talking on the phone.
I still couldn’t find Red’s phone anywhere. I began thinking he might have figured out how to take it with him. He rarely spent a moment on this earth when he wasn’t on it.
I called our neighbors in northern Georgia, told them the sad news and asked them to call his other friends up there. They said they couldn’t make it down to the service I was having for his family on Sunday and I told them that was fine. I would come up there next week and would let them know what day and asked if they would help me put together a wake for him there. They said they would be glad to help. I should just call to let them know what day I would be coming north as soon as I knew.
I called some very good friends on Summerland Key. They had just heard it on the radio. The entire Florida Keys was grieving the loss of my husband with a minute of silence and an hour-long radio show dedicated to Fiddlin Red’s music.
Later in the day I was telling someone I must have received a hundred phone calls. Dr. Susan politely corrected me and said it had to have been more like four hundred as I hadn’t stopped talking all day and much of the time I had more than one call at a time.
We went to the funeral parlor and sat with the man who owned the business, which apparently was quite lucrative. With our service they were booked solid for the weekend.
I had to choose the service I wanted for my husband less than twelve hours after I had tried to resuscitate him. I chose the simplest. Red would have wanted it that way. I decided not to get an urn. I couldn’t imagine having him sitting on the mantle. I asked what he would come in if I didn’t purchase the urn. His ashes would come in a plastic bag which would be inside a plastic box inside a cardboard box. I would be given transport papers explaining what it was and would need to carry the papers with me if I were going on an airplane. I guess it would be a good idea to be able to prove to any potential law officers what the plastic bag of white powder I was carrying was.
I found out I would need to pay for several copies of the death certificate, $11 for each copy. One for each of the credit card companies, bank accounts, counties we held property in, etc, and, oh, one for social security. There was a spousal death benefit I could claim. I thought, “That’s nice. The government helps out widows.”
I asked the man if he knew how much it would be.
“Two hundred and fifty-five dollars,” was his answer.
I looked at Dr. Susan and said I felt as though I had been slapped in the face. She agreed and I figured, “Well, every penny will help at this point. Be grateful, Diane, not angry at the system.”
The man showed me the booklets they made up for their clients families and told me the price. I told him no, thank you, realizing I could make a much more attractive booklet at home on my own printer for my deceased partner.
Here I was spending $2000 I didn’t have 12 hours after he was gone and getting ready to make the program for his funeral. How surreal it all was going through these motions. Fortunately, they took credit cards.
We had to go back through Fanning Springs and past my bank. I asked Dr. Susan to stop so I could deposit a check from the corporate account into my personal account. I wasn’t doing anything illegal I just wanted to follow the advice I had been given. Not only had Dr. Susan warned me about potential problems with money but a girlfriend of mine in the Keys had called this morning and told me firmly, “Take care of business. Take care of yourself. Move the money, NOW.”
We stopped at the bank and not only did I deposit a check from our corporate account but I also had one of those credit card checks Red had signed last night while we were packing to go to the Keys. We were going to use it to pay off a couple of the credit cards we had let get away from us and there was a little extra for the trip we were planning in January. Well, we wouldn’t be going to the islands for the New Year but I would be grateful for the extra money to get me through till I figured out what would happen next.
I also cashed a check, opened up a safety deposit box and put my first fistful of money in it. I wasn’t taking any chances. Too many people were telling me how, even with joint accounts, there could be problems. Quite honestly the shock of losing my husband was enough to deal with without the thought of not being able access my hard earned money. Survival was the only thing on my mind. Besides, it was better than thinking about what had happened in the past 17 hours.
On the way through Trenton I asked Dr. Susan to please stop at Petrello’s restaurant. I knew Red’s family would want to get together after the service on Sunday and I didn’t want to be responsible for entertaining them at home. I ran into the restaurant’s kitchen, not only to tell Paulie the sad and disturbing news, but, to find out if they were open on Sunday.
He was in the kitchen and said his usual, “Hey kiddo,” and he knew when he looked up from his food prep and saw my face something was dreadfully wrong.
I told him Red had had a heart attack and was dead. He ran over and hugged me and kept saying the same thing everyone else said, “No, that can’t be. No,” and then he added, “What can I do?”
I asked if he was open on Sunday and he said, “No, why?” I explained I needed to feed the family flying in from New York after the service and couldn’t see them eating at a BBQ joint in Cross City. He asked me, “What time do you want me to open?” I told him the service was at 3pm and we should be done and back in Trenton by 5pm. He asked how many people I thought would be coming. I told him about a dozen and then he said he would take care of everything.
Thank God Red’s family wouldn’t have to eat in Cross City and thank God for Paulie. He was glad to help me out and he loved Red in the short time he had known him; just like everyone else who knew my husband. He was so lovable.
I went out to Dr. Susan’s truck and told her the restaurant would open on Sunday, just for us, and she was as relieved as I was.
We went to her house and I lied down on her couch while she gathered a few things to spend another night with me. I spoke to her mom briefly but she was watching TV and I didn’t really feel like talking anyway. I hadn’t slept for over 36 hours and I was exhausted but suspected it might be awhile before I would be able to sleep.
As I lie on her couch I distinctly felt the air move and a kiss on the back of my neck. Red knew ‘my spot’ and there was no doubt in my mind he had kissed me there to tell me he was ok.
Dr. Susan and I eventually went back to my house and we flipped my mattress over and I made my bed. Now she lay on my couch, while I tossed and turned for hours, sobbing uncontrollably every once in awhile as quietly as I could.
When she heard me she would call out and ask me if I wanted her to come and comfort me. I told her no. I told her I was ok. How could anyone be ok after what had just happened but I realized there was nothing she could do to help me.
I couldn’t sleep so I got up and continued cleaning out Red’s belongings, crying, looking at his things in disbelief. I got out my calendar and began writing down all the things I would have to do in the coming days and making a plan. When the going gets tough, the tough get going and I was feeling as tough as nails. I knew I was hiding my grief by being strong, if that makes any sense. It was all I could do.
After another sleepless night I heard her alarm go off Saturday morning at 7:30am. I began panicking slightly at the thought of being alone. I told myself I was a big girl. I would be fine.
She left to go to The Center and I went to work cleaning and tidying up my house. There would be a lot of people visiting over the next few days. I was glad my sister was finally going to see the house I had bought on my own credit and put in my name only. I just wished she were coming for a different reason.
Then I realized it was probably a good thing I had put the house in my name only. No one could take this one from me as long as I could pay for it.
I realized the Georgia house was in Red’s name only. We had discussed this often. In fact we were going to take care of it the next time we were in northern Georgia, just to keep me happy. He always said we didn’t have to put my name on it, I was his wife. If he died it would go to me anyway. I guess now I would find out whether he was right or whether he was wrong.
Thoughts came into my mind as fast as they possibly could. I would write down as many things as possible and breathe deeply. I was doing more deep breathing and more yoga than my normal hour every morning. I attribute my deep spirituality and my daily devotions to helping me function as well as I was functioning, which I thought, was amazingly well.
Oh dear, I had to let his fans know.
So many people loved my husband. He touched the lives of so many with his smile and his talent.
I posted the tragedy in the blog on the www.BruceandRed.com website and the words of disbelief and grief began pouring onto the page from around the world. Bruce and Red were due to begin December 5th at the Hogs Breath in Destin and December 13th at the Hogs Breath in Key West. Bruce was going to have to go on without his partner.
When Bruce and I finally spoke, we cried and tried to make arrangements for a service at the Hog’s Breath in Key West so all the fans could take part in the grieving.
It’s important to help others through a tragic time and even though I knew it was going to be difficult for me I was not the only one who was hurting. People around the world were crying for my fiddle player.
I spoke to my neighbors at the mountain about doing the service in northern Georgia on Thursday, December 6th. They said they would be prepared and I could stay there if I wanted to. I thanked them but realized I would be staying with my friend, Patty, in Atlanta.
She had lost her husband only a couple of years ago to a brain tumor. I knew her home was the best place in the world for me to be. I would find great comfort spending time with her.
My phone rang and it was Annie asking me to tell her it wasn’t true. I told her I wished I could say it was a vicious rumor, but, yes, Red was gone. She asked what could she do to help and I realized I needed to do a service for his fans in Key Largo. This was going to be grueling. Was I up for it? I had to be.
I got out my calendar and told Annie she could help me put a service together on Thursday, December 13th. She said there would probably be a conflict with the Caribbean Club’s Christmas Party and when she called back she expressed a few peoples’ disappointment. I decided I wasn’t following anyone’s schedule now but my own.
The dates for the services were falling into place. A plan was coming together.
I called Dr. Susan to ask her if she wanted to go with me to the Keys and was relieved when she agreed to go. She wished she had made the trip while Red was alive but she knew I needed her now and made plans to drive down and back. I would pay for her gas and her expenses. She would finally be forced to take a break from her acupuncture practice. She wished it were for a different reason and so did I.
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