I awoke at home the next morning refreshed. It was good to be back in my bed. Everyone kept asking me how I could do it. How could I sleep in the house where my husband had died? I thought, “Why couldn’t I, and why wouldn’t I? It wasn’t as though there had been a bloody murder. He died of natural causes doing one of his favorite things in life.”
I loved it at my home on the lake. I had been spending most of my days here since I bought it in June of 2006. Red would tease me every once in awhile and say I had purchased this house in my credit and in my name so when I left him I would have some place to live. Well, it wasn’t my intention, but it came in handy when we split up for those long 5 weeks. Funny, it would be easier now because I hadn’t put his name on it; although, even if his name had been on it with mine, it would have just been a matter of going to the county courthouse with a copy of the death certificate and a $10 fee. Not like the mess with the Georgia house. The attorney and the probate were going to be expensive and time consuming.
I’d had fun painting nearly all the inside walls of this house by myself and the outside too. Red loved to help with it when he could visit. He’d drive up on a Monday and stay until Friday when he didn’t have to play music in the Keys during the week. We’d paint, work in the yard and take the canoe out on the lake. We even spent our daytime hours here when I was working full time at the disabled veteran’s home. I just had to be available in case of emergencies during the day and be back in time for my night time shift.
I had also made some good friends in the neighborhood. Friendships take time and I always make an effort to stay in touch with people. Let them know you care. I was glad I had stopped to see the woman at the end of the street last week. I would call her in a little while to confirm our departure time for Wednesday. I felt good about being able to help her visit with her sister during the holidays.
I got my load of laundry in, made a few phone calls and put the few things away I had brought back from the Keys. It seemed like such a small pile of stuff compared to what was in the motor home. I took special care to put the scribbled pages of lyrics in a briefcase with the rest of the songs I’d found at the mountain and in his car. So many ideas, so many feelings on paper, so many beginnings of songs never finished. I had to keep them all.
I started the Honda del Sol and moved it out of the middle of the driveway to the side yard. Sleeping in the house was not a problem. Seeing Red’s car constantly was. Every time I looked out and saw it sitting there I expected him to get out of it.
I needed to find a place to put it while I was gone too. I had guests coming into my rental house for the whole month of January and it couldn’t sit in the side yard. Maybe I would run it over to the neighbors’ house or maybe I would move it onto my second lot. I would figure that out later.
First I needed to get a little food in the house. I was going to be here a couple of days. I also had to stop at the bank. I had checked online and the money from the mutual fund had come through and was in our account at Wachovia. I was acting on the suggestions given me to me and would move it all into an account that did not have Red’s name on it. Just in case.
I loaded up my truck with trash. The dump was on the way to the bank and I would stop at the grocery store after I went to the post office.
My phone rang as I was pulling into the dump. I couldn’t unload the trash while I spoke on the phone so I sat in my truck and talked while watching other people dumping their garbage.
It was a new man from my insurance company. He was an investigator assigned to my case and he had to interview me. This man explained to me again since the policy was less than two years old they had to do a thorough investigation.
I could hear the tone in his voice, “Your husband was a musician? We’ll have to have you sign a waiver allowing us to interview people he worked with and for to make sure he answered everything honestly on his application.” I couldn’t remember what the application had asked. I assumed he had told the truth.
The investigator continued, “Once the interview has taken place the paperwork will be submitted and we should hear something back in about 4 months.”
“Four months?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yes,” he sternly said. “I can come up to your area next week and we can get everything started.”
“I won’t be here next week. I am going home for the holidays. Where are you located? Perhaps we can meet somewhere? I am happy to cooperate,” I explained as I silently prayed we could get this all started sooner. I certainly was happy to cooperate. If the insurance didn’t pay off not only would I lose the house in Georgia but there was a very good chance I would lose the house on the Suwannee too. When I bought this Suwannee rental house I was working full time and making plenty of money. Now, I had not only lost that income, I’d lost my husband’s income too. I could be on the street. I was trying not to worry but the wheels in my mind were spinning uselessly…
“I am in Tampa,” he answered.
“I have to drive to Orlando on Wednesday and I will be dropping someone off about half an hour west of there. Would early evening be a good time for you to meet me somewhere west of Orlando?” I sure hoped he would say yes.
His voice picked up a few notches, “That would be fine. Do you know of a place?”
“No, why don’t we stay in touch by cell phone. I should be in the area by 6pm,” I told him in a tone as pleasantly as I could possibly muster.
“We’ll be in touch. Thank you for cooperating,” he ended the conversation sounding very official.
“Yes sir, have a nice day,” I told him in between beeps on my phone. Someone had called in while we were talking but I wasn’t interrupting him for anything. I wanted him to know I would do whatever he needed me to do.
I listened to the message left on my voicemail while I was on the phone with Mr. Insurance Investigator. The medical examiner’s office wanted to ask me some questions.
Great, I’ve got Mr. Insurance Man investigating my husband’s lifestyle thoroughly and the medical examiners office has some questions for me. What could they possibly want to know? Breathe, Diane, breathe.
My friend Patty called while I was sitting there trying to breathe deeply and calm down, just feeling disbelief at the dump. I told her the medical examiner’s office had called and asked her what she thought they wanted.
“You won’t know till you call them, Diane. Just think of them as your friend. They want to help you find out why Red died,” she said so calmly. I was glad she had called when she had. She helped me realize nothing was wrong. They were on my side. Thanks again, Universe.
So I called the medical examiner’s office and was put on eternal hold. I sat there thinking of the clock ticking away my cell phone minutes. I was going to have to increase my plan at least for a few months. I can’t afford to pay the outrageous charges on overages.
They finally came on the line, all apologetic and asked me, “Mrs. Seidman, did your husband have a doctor?”
“No, he wasn’t sick. He’d had a physical about a year and a half ago for a new insurance policy and he was feeling fine,” I told them.
“Well, I am sorry to tell you this, but if he’d had a proper physical, a complete one with a stress test, they would have known he had heart disease. His right aorta was 80% blocked, he could have been treated for this,” the woman on the phone told me.
I thought for a moment. I could get mad at someone but it wouldn’t do Red any good. It wouldn’t do me any good. There wasn’t anything I could do. The “what ifs” were racing through my mind, but it didn’t make any sense to do this to myself.
This information hurt my heart deeply. It made me realize I needed to tell people about this. Especially since I had learned from a friend if a man is going to die of a heart attack it will most likely happen between the ages of 50 and 60 years of age. According to statistics, if a man makes it to 60 years old his chances of dying of a heart attack are greatly reduced.
“Thank you for your information,” I told the woman, trying not to cry.
“I am so sorry for your loss,” she said compassionately.
“Thank you. Have a nice afternoon,” was all I could say.
I guess I better dump this trash, take care of the banking business, stop at the post office and get something to eat. I was starving and I didn’t want to think about what Red should have done anymore.
Once my errands were done I went home and had something to eat before I started cleaning and packing. Packing for three weeks in Maine in the middle of the winter, whatever was I thinking? I hate the cold.
Well, I couldn’t stay here, my house was rented and I didn’t want to be with someone else’s family for the holidays. I wanted to go home despite the ridiculously cold temperatures I knew I was about to face. I was glad my sister made me make the reservation before she left because if I had REALLY thought about the climate, I may have gone south instead!
I was also glad Red had so many miles accumulated on his credit card. The flight would cost me $40. I was so thankful I would be able to get away and I thought of all the people in the world who lost a spouse and had to keep on doing whatever they had to do to keep their household together. I had no children at home who needed me and I didn’t have a regular job which I had to go to every day. I was feeling very, very fortunate.
If there is such a thing as dying at the right time, Red did that for me as well and he left me with a plane ticket to go home. Thanks for the Christmas present, Honey.
I had a little bit to eat before I went to bed. I found I had to make myself eat. I hadn’t been hungry since I’d lost him and I had been losing weight. Since Red’s death my blood pressure was very low too, 80/54. Dr. Susan said the heart shock would take time to repair. I had been through a lot. I had to take it easy. Well, I would do my best but I have never been good at sitting still for long. I would try.
My house was completely clean and ready for the incoming guests. My rental house had worked well for me. I could travel and make money while I was gone. The only difference now was I wasn’t getting money from Red anymore. I was approaching every decision every day as though I were in business to take care of me. I had to now. There was no one else to do the job.
December 19.............Another Day, Another Trip
When I got up I was ready to get out of Dixie County. There’s nothing like a trip to cheer me up. I put my bags in my truck and jumped into Red’s car to move it out of the way. It seemed very strange to sit behind his steering wheel.
I turned the key and The Sol, as we called her, made a funny noise and smoke began to pour from underneath her hood. I shut the key off immediately and popped the hood. I am not sure what I was looking for and couldn’t believe she wouldn’t start. She ran just fine when I put her over here yesterday. Maybe Red was jealous of me traveling without him and decided to cause some problems.
I called AAA and they said they would be there in about an hour. I called the garage at the end of the street where we had all our service done and told them I was having Red’s del Sol towed there. Then I told them I wouldn’t be able to pick the car up for nearly a month, I would be in New England visiting family. The man behind the desk said, “No problem, Diane.” I couldn’t tell him on the phone that Red had died. I would stop on the way to Orlando.
The tow truck showed up and I called my neighbor at the end of the road to let her know I was on my way to pick her up. The man driving the tow truck said, “Looks like she’s been sitting here a while with all these leaves on her.”
“I just moved the car there yesterday,” I told him. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to accuse me of or why he even cared. I just knew I wasn’t in the mood to get into a conversation with a tow truck driver with an attitude right now. I signed the paperwork and headed out to pick up my neighbor while he was still loading the car on his truck.
We got to the garage just after the car did and I walked inside to tell the man behind the counter Red had died a few weeks ago. He was as shocked as everyone else was and said I could leave the car there as long as I needed to. They would also help me sell it. Good, I needed all the help I could get!
We headed south for Orlando with a brief stop in Ocala at my husband’s parents home to drop off the remainder of his ashes. They wanted to take them to Long Island, his birthplace and where he spent his childhood. I gave them the Official Certificate from the funeral parlor explaining what the contents of the box were in case they were going to fly with it. A bag of white powder is not something airlines like you to carry on without an explanation.
The drive from Ocala to Orlando seemed longer than usual and my neighbor’s perfume was exceptionally strong. I wanted to ask her not to wear it for our ride but I didn’t want to offend her so I had my window open to let some fresh air in.
When I realized we missed the exit to drop her off at her sister’s house I asked my neighbor if she knew the area at all. She didn‘t. It had changed so much since she had lived here. I called to see if her sister knew how to get to her house from the exit we were approaching.
No, she didn’t know the way from the turnpike but could meet us on Route 4 at the Clermont exit. I was hoping I wasn’t going to be too late for my meeting with Mr. Insurance Investigator and I was so thankful I had cell phone service in this area. I would eventually find him.
Just then my phone rang. It was Mr. Insurance Investigator and he was running late to our scheduled meeting. I told him that was fine. I was a little lost helping a friend and would be a little late too. I would call him as I neared the area we had spoken of meeting, north of Rte. 4.
After helping my neighbor out of the truck I headed towards my meeting with the Investigator. I called him and he directed me to a popular restaurant he’d discovered while he’d been waiting. I apologized for being late and explained I’d dropped a little old lady off at her sister’s for the holidays.
“That was nice of you,” he said, “You’ve done your good deed for the month.”
“Good deed for the month? I try to do a good deed every day!” I told him as I thought to myself one good deed each month isn’t nearly enough. There are way too many people who need help.
We sat outside of the restaurant while he asked questions and I signed paper after paper, form after form. He gave me copies of everything and said he would do his best to rush this through. He’d been told most of my work was done on a volunteer basis and without my husband’s income, he realized, I wouldn‘t be able to pay bills.
As I drove away I thought about the interrogation and felt it had gone very well. I guess I was supposed to be late so this man could understand what a nice person I was going out of my way for a little old lady. Hey, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have the interrogator on my side!
I arrived at my son’s house, completely exhausted and truly glad the day was behind me. I was going to fly home tomorrow and I was SO looking forward to seeing my family.
December 18th, Thursday
I guess you could say we had a successful practice run to the airport.
I called the airline before we left the house to confirm the flight was running on schedule as I knew the weather was iffy in Boston. I also had them set things up so the airline would text message me if something changed. It was after I was dropped off at the airport that things changed and I got my first text message.
Apparently the snow storm was more severe than originally expected and they were delaying the flight for an hour to start. I checked my bag and as I was standing in line to go through the security point I asked a woman who was an airport employee if there was a place I could get a drink on the other side of the security line. Whenever Red and I started on vacation we would have a Bloody Mary as an official vacation starter and I thought it would help pass some time nicely.
“There is a Starbucks just down on the left,” she pointed towards the coffee house.
“No, a drink with alcohol,” I told her, “To start off my vacation and pass some time. My flight has been delayed.”
Now, this woman, at least twenty years younger than I, began lecturing me in her thick Spanish accent, “Oh no. It is too early for alcohol. It is not good for you. It is bad for your health.”
“Ok, ok,” I told her and was glad another security line opened up. I wanted to move away from her because she was starting to raise her voice and I was beginning to feel my face turn red. I was disappointed with The Universe for a moment. Then I thought, “She’s right. It’s 10am and maybe that is too early for a drink. You’ll be tired the rest of the day and one drink may lead to another. Red isn’t here, you don’t have to have a drink. She’s probably an angel in disguise.”
I must have had a stern look on my face when I reached the security guard checking IDs because he looked at me and then looked at my ID and he looked at me again with a strange look on his face.
He looked at my photo again and he looked at me one more time and shook his head.
I looked at him, ready to ask him what the problem was and he smiled at me and said, “This isn’t you. Where’s your smile?”
I smiled back at this next angel disguised in a security officer’s uniform. He had wittily reminded me, it isn’t what happens to me, it’s how I react to it. I should be smiling.
He gave me my ID and I walked through security and waited at the other side of the conveyor belt for my things. They wanted to go through my bag so I would have to wait. I am a frequent flyer and I don’t mind the additional security measures, so I put on my shoes and patiently waited.
The man who had walked through in front of me was confused and upset and talking to the security guard. “How did this happen?” he asked, trying not to sound as angry as he looked.
“The service desk is over there sir. You will have to file a report,” the security guard told him.
As he walked away I asked the guard, who was quickly going through my bag, what had happened.
“Someone picked up his laptop by mistake. It happens all the time. Thank you for your patience and have a nice flight,” he ushered me along and helped the next person to be searched.
As I walked past the bar into Starbucks, I thought to myself, “His laptop wasn’t picked up by mistake. If it had been a mistake there would have been another one left behind.” I was thankful I hadn’t brought mine this trip, that could have been me and I can’t imagine losing my laptop. The next time I travel with my computer I will be sure to keep my eyes on it.
I drank my coffee and spent the day at the airport, talking to people, playing with children and reading my book. They offered to put me on the 9pm flight that would arrive in Boston just after midnight. No, that would be too late. Let’s try this again tomorrow.
I was not too terribly upset by the delay caused by the snow storm. It was the kind gentleman in Boston who was on standby to pick me up for whom I felt badly. He was an old friend of Red’s who was going to give me a ride to my sister’s home outside of Boston. I hadn’t rented a car in Boston as the fares were ridiculously high. The local rental in her home town saved me several hundred dollars. Besides, this man was buying the guitar I would be carrying. He was a great friend and fan and wanted something of Red’s to remember him by, and, he wanted to help me out financially. I tried not to feel badly about selling Red’s instruments. I had no use for them and I would need the money to pay bills. No telling how long it would be before I received any insurance money, or, for that matter, IF there would be any insurance money.
I called my friend who was due to pick me up and explained I would not be flying in tonight, apologizing for the changes. He was very understanding and quite thankful I was not coming in at midnight. He would see me tomorrow; same time, same place, different day.
My son’s roommate picked me up at the Orlando airport when he got off work and brought me back to Joshua’s condo. I fixed a scrumptious meal for all of us and enjoyed another evening with my son.
The following day the flight was delayed as well but they assured me the latest I would be flying out would be 2pm. Joshua took me to the airport on the way to his work at Disney and I had a cup of green tea while waiting for my flight; new life, new habits and a light at the end of the tunnel that didn’t look like a train.