26 Days: Death, Dying, and a Clusterf&*k of a Time

(This blog was established 10 years ago so I could write about whatever I wanted. I stopped writing in May of 2010,when life got too crazy and I didn't feel like writing anymore. I called this blog "Somewhere You Feel Free," a line in the Tom Petty song, "Wildflowers." I wanted my blog to be a place where I could write freely. I'm ready to start writing again...so here we go.)

My father's ashes were interred in a niche in Hillside Memorial Park, just down the hall from his beloved Jack Benny, 26 days after he died from a recurrence of renal cancer.

Now, my family is Jewish. I come from a world where we bury the dead quickly and are comforted by lox and bagels and loved ones. But my dad made a decision long ago that he wanted to be cremated and interred in Los Angeles. Ok, fine. But why did it take 26 days?

THE BACKGROUND

When my father made the decision to begin hospice care--this happened three months before his death, in Eisenhower Medical Center in Ranch Mirage, California--we knew he'd be spending his last weeks in California instead of his apartment in Chevy Chase, Maryland. When the doctor left his room, my dad looked at me, and his first words were: 

"I want you to go online to Costco and buy an urn."

And the first words out of my mouth were:

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

But, really, Costco does sell urns. They sell caskets, too. In fact, you could order an urn, a washer and dryer set, and new tires for your car, all in just a few minutes.

So, I dutifully went online and bought him an urn: a box with the Navy seal on it, since he had served honorably and, frankly, the other urns were either too religious or really, really hideous.

Okay, so I ordered the urn. I had it delivered to my office. My boss was stunned when he walked into my office and saw a box marked "Memorial Products," but that's another story.

Next, my dad said, "I bought a niche at Hillside." 

So I called Hillside Memorial Park, which is located near the airport in Los Angeles, confirmed that he had a niche, and wrote down any relevant information I'd need.

Then, he said, "Call Desert Cremations and arrange for me to be cremated."

I went online but couldn't find anyplace called Desert Cremations. There was Desert Memorial Cremation and Burial, High Desert Cremations, even Desert Rose Heather Cremation and Burial. So, I did what any responsible adult would do. I went onto Yelp.

The only place I could find that wasn't associated with a funeral home was Smart Cremations. It got 3 1/2 stars on Yelp. The reviews, as you can imagine, were mixed:

"This is an incredible helpful service. They make things much easier for someone who has probably just experienced losing a loved one. Their staff is quite understanding, kind, and were on top of everything throughout the whole process. I appreciate their service, especially considering the nature of their business. I would recommend using this service to anyone."

"I am relieved to know that our loved one was in such capable hands."

And then there were a couple like this:

"When I called [them] back i was told it was a very busy time and that she (the person in charge of my moms case) had been sick with the flu and her son had gotten it and she was doing the best she could. I apologized for my mom dying at a busy time and that her son had the flu but my mom was dead..........ended up having to deal with a supervisor who finally got things handled and almost a month after mom had passed we finally got her ashes delivered by a gentleman who knocked on the door, handed my sister the ashes and walked away."

But look, there aren't many choices...and they had good reviews, too...and I know that people who would write a Yelp review for a cremation service likely had a larger problem and they probably weren't the norm...blah..blah...blah...so I called Smart Cremations. They sent a salesperson out to see a me a couple of days later.

Roman (whose job title, no joke, is "Smart Representative"), came to see me at work. After a slide show, which featured a photo of the cremation oven so I could see that only one person could be cremated at a time in each one, I'd had enough. 

"Look," I said, quoting Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman," "I'm a sure thing." So we signed the paperwork, I handed over my credit card, and that was it.

Roman said that it would take one-and-a-half to two weeks to get he ashes returned to me. That seemed long, but it also seemed reasonable.

Oh, but there was one glitch: Smart Cremations provided their own, standard urn (note: STANDARD URN), and they wouldn't use the one I had already purchased.

So, back to Costco I went.

I was downright giddy standing in the return line at Costco. I couldn't wait to see the return lady's face when she opened the box.

She did not disappoint.

"Wow," she said. "I've never had someone return one of these. They usually get used, don't they?"

And then she said, "This is the strangest return I've ever done."

THE AFTERMATH

My father passed away peacefully on September 14, 2016. We called Smart Cremations, and they sent a team out to pick up his body.

Before they left, the man with the paperwork said, "It will probably take two to three weeks before you get the ashes returned."

How did we get to three weeks from one-and-a-half to two weeks? Well, it didn't really matter. It was 
DAY 1.

Things were held up a couple of days because a hospice nurse was the one who verified Dad's death, so they needed a coroner to do that. A couple of days became SIX days. That put us on DAY 7.

Look, I am a Jew. I come from a family where people die, are buried, and we sit shiva. This waiting for a week was hard enough. Little did I know there were more weeks to come.

DAY 9. An email from Smart Cremations to my dad's partner, Margaret:

"The death certificate has [been] filed and registered....I have notified the crematory to proceed w/ cremation, [which] will occur in 2-5 working days. Once I receive notification that cremation is complete, the urn will return here to our office in Rancho Mirage. Then our delivery service will contact you to arrange time/date to bring the urn to your residence."

Okay, so this was Friday, September 23. Five working days would put us at the following Friday, September 30. Sixteen days after his death. Okay. We can start talking about a memorial service, right? Great. Let's wait a full week after that so the ashes can be delivered and everyone can get to Los Angeles. So, we settle on Friday, October 7.

DAY 12. I call Hillside Memorial Park, talk to one of their reps, and plan a small, simple service.

DAY 19. I haven't heard from the crematorium yet, so I send an email to the customer service rep:

"Have you received the cremations yet? If not, when do you expect to get them?"

The response:

"The crematory is working on a 4-7 working day schedule right now. Should be anytime now. I will follow up and email you in the AM after I contact them."

This is NOT HELPFUL.

So I write back:

Thank you. We are planning to have a service this Friday, which we chose because it was more than three weeks after his death on Sept. 14.

And then, I receive this message:

DAY 20:

"I [was] just informed by the crematory [that] he will be cremated today." 

ON DAY 20! So, it took 20 days, almost three weeks, for them to cremate my father? What. The. FUCK! They had ONE JOB! One job!

DAY 22: My father's cremains are delivered to Hillside Memorial Park in the (this is important, so take note) standard-sized urn that came with the Smart Cremations contract.

DAY 23:
Thirteen of Dad's family and friends gather at Hillside for a small service. We drive, funeral-procession style, following the hearse (which seemed awfully strange, since it was an urn and not a coffin. Whatever.) up the hill to the mausoleum.

Dad's niche is at the top of a bookcase-like columbarium, anchored to a wall, just down the hall from Jack Benny, which I know my father chose on purpose. 

After I say a few words, my sister recites Psalm 23, and we all read the Mourner's Kaddish, it's time to put the urn into the niche. The cemetery worker gets up on the ladder, which is an aluminum ladder that you'd find in a garage. They couldn't spring for a nice wooden, finished one?

Anyway, the cemetery worker goes to place the urn in the niche, and...

THE URN IS TOO BIG FOR THE NICHE.

I repeat:

THE URN IS TOO BIG FOR THE NICHE.

So, another cemetery worker gets up on the ladder. As my husband and I mumble "Nope. Nope." to ourselves, this guy discovers that, indeed...

THE URN IS TOO BIG FOR THE NICHE.

The woman who is directing things is staring at me with a panicked look on her face. I walk over to her and ask, "What do we do now?" Her response:

"I don't really know what to do."

Again, they had ONE JOB TO DO! One job!

My response:

"Can we get a smaller urn?"

She offers to take me down to the showroom and show me the selection of urns. I ask her to just pick one out and email a photo to me. She assures me that they will transfer my father's cremains at no charge. She also tells me that they measured the niche and the urn and they should have fit...but there is a face plate on the front of the niche. So, clearly, they measured, but not very well. Apparently my [standard-size...this is important] urn that came with the cremation package was too big. 

I leave my father's ashes, in the original urn, in the hands of Hillside Memorial Park, and take my family to lunch. As we are leaving, I joke with the funeral director that at least she has a good funeral story, and she says:

"This is the strangest thing that has ever happened to me."

While at lunch, Hillside's representative calls me to apologize over and over. She says she is going to send me a photo of another urn, and if I approve, they will transfer my father's cremains into it and inter them. But she had another question:

"What should we do with the original urn?"

When I suggest that she dispose of it, she asks:

"Are you sure?"

I ask what she suggests I do with it...and she replies...

"Hold onto it for a future cremation?"

I don't even know how to respond. So I ask them to dispose of it. She asks me to let her know when I've approved the urn, and they can go ahead and transfer the ashes.

We head home.

The funeral director calls me to tell me that the earliest they can do the interment is Monday, because of Shabbat on Saturday and something else on Sunday. So, on Monday morning, DAY 26, my sister, our husbands, and I head back to Hillside.

After spotting a mouse in the reception area, which put the staff into a bit of a tizzy, we get back in the car, where we follow a hearse, with my dad's ashes strapped in the back, up the hill to the mausoleum. It's like a real funeral procession--the hearse is literally driving five miles an hour with the hazard lights on. It's a procession of two cars.

When they opened the back of the hearse and there was a tiny box strapped into the back, my sister and I almost lost it with laughter. They couldn't just hold it on the five-mile-an-hour ride up the hill? But anyway...

So, we went back into the mausoleum and watched through tears as the cemetery worker got back up on the ladder, put my father's ashes into the niche, and closed it up.

And now we wait for the unveiling...which hopefully will be a much simpler process.

I do know that my father was laughing from above during this whole thing. As Erma Bombeck once said:

"There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt."

I do love that my father is down the hall from Jack Benny though...he was one of his favorites. I'd like to think that there are some hilarious parties up there after the sun goes down.

 

Spring Show

Last week was the Spring Show at daycare. (Here's a clip of Megan from the show in 2008.) This year, Michael and his class were dressed as flowers. Of course, Michael insisted on being carried, so he got a part in the performance after all!

Megan took one look at me and left the stage--so I don't have any pictures of her! But after the performance, we had a picnic--complete with cupcakes!

Megan ate her cupcake a little more neatly than Michael ate his...

Look Out World!

On the eve of his 16-month birthday, Michael is walking! Woo hoo!!!!

Two Funny Photos

"What are you lookin' at? I'm drinking my milk, one of my worshipers at my feet. Yeah. What about it?"

Clearly, someone needs to stop being such a party animal.

Weekends

Weekends are fun and difficult, joyful and exhausting. Especially during college baseball season, I have very mixed feelings about weekends. Love them because they are unstructured time with the kids; am frustrated by them because there is no such thing as downtime with little ones! So I try and find fun things for us to do to pass the time so we aren't watching Sesame Street all weekend.

We go to playgrounds a lot. I'm trying to master the art of handling two children at once, and it is a continual challenge. But so much fun to watch them master the little things--like Megan climbing a ladder or Michael going down a slide.

And I am so thankful that we live in a climate where we can be outside most days!

Nice Sunglasses!

Gram bought the kids sunglasses. Here they are, sporting their shades.

Today, Megan and I went to see "Annie" at Harvard-Westlake. She loved it--although she didn't last through the first act. She's been singing "It's a Hard Knock Life" or, as she calls it, "It's a Hard KNOT Life."

The Kids, March 2010

Here are a couple of pictures. Michael is currently working on his walking (he's a late starter, like Megan), while Megan is working on being two and exerting as much independence as possible. Thankfully, they are both still the best cuddlebugs I know--nothing feels quite as nice as snuggling up with them on the couch.

It's been far too long...

The holidays came and went, we moved into a new house, Michael turned one, and I haven't written a darn thing in this blog! So, here are a few relatively recent pics:

Megan has experimented with pigtails...

P.C. got to enjoy "Snow Day" at daycare with Megan again this year, and Michael joined in the fun too...
Mom/Poppy came for two visits, and we took this photo of Poppy and the grandkids...

And Michael got his first haircut!

Things are crazy, but so wonderful too. I am so grateful. Tired, too. But definitely grateful.

Happy Holidays!

Last Friday was the holiday show at the kids' preschool/daycare. This is Megan's third year at the school, but the first time we ever went to the show--mainly because it starts at 6:30 at night and the kids are usually in bed at seven! But this year, because Megan's class actually practiced songs and we felt like we should do it...off we went to Pierce College!

Both kids were amazing. Michael's class was brought out and propped up in a bench with sections for seating. The theme was "Fantasia," and Michael was dressed like Mickey Mouse in the movie.

The school kept the front row of seating open for the parents of the kids who were performing so someone from the family could go take pictures. I went to the front, but was sure that once Michael saw me, he'd start reaching for me and crying. Nope! He saw me and started waving and blowing kisses like he was on a Rose Bowl float.

When Megan's class came out, Megan saw me, waved, and said, "Hi Mommy!" Then she sat and sucked her thumb through "Jingle Bells," "Hanukkah, Oh Hanukkah," and "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer." During the final song, which was a chance for the kids to dance, she slept standing up while some of the other kids got their grooves on.

Both kids were totally exhausted, but it turned out pretty well! And everyone slept well that night...

Fall Videos

Here are two short videos...

In the first, 11-month-old Michael crawls to get his bat, while his daddy tries to get him to put it in the "correct" hand.

And in the second video, Megan sings "Jingle Bells" while doing some very important work.

11 Months Old and Thanksgiving

Michael turned 11 months old today. Hard to believe he is almost a year old!

Today was also Thanksgiving. We celebrated with family and friends. And Megan made decorations for the front door!

Megan liked the food much more this year...

...and Michael got to hold the drumstick!

We have much to be thankful for!

Uh-Oh, It's School Picture Time Again...

Last year, the entry was called Why Daycare and Photo Day Don't Mix. And, once again, it was an interesting year.

Michael looks like a little man who is wondering why some guy with a camera is looking at him...

Poor Megan. In the words of one of my coworkers, it looks like they shot a puppy in front of her and then took her picture. So sweet and so sad.

Here's to next year!

Message for My 39th Birthday

I started writing birthday messages for myself four years ago, when I turned 35. I had an interaction with a homeless man that morning that moved me, and I wanted to share the experience with some of my friends. That led to a message for my 36th, 37th and 38th birthdays. So, what to write this year?

I really do love my birthday. It is an opportunity to say thanks for the previous year (and to my mom for having me in the first place) and a chance to reflect on my life in general.

Since I’m entering my 40th year, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my 30s. What an amazing ride. Since I turned 30, I’ve completed three marathons, mainly to prove to myself that I could. I tried scuba diving. I got to sing with a band onstage (granted, the stage was in a hotel in Winchester, Virginia, but still…). I dated a few men who were wrong for me and one or two who might have been right for me at a different time in my life. I was honored to become friends with a bunch of amazing ladies who continue to inspire me, even cross-country! I packed up my life and moved to Los Angeles, got to watch my nice Miri grow up (still under construction!), meet P.C. and be blessed with Megan and Michael after what seemed like an endless journey of trying to have a baby. I’ve been so happy I wanted to jump for joy and so sad that I couldn’t get my head off the couch. I’ve held friends’ new babies and had to say goodbye to friends and family members.

This year has been particularly interesting. The addition of Michael to our family has made things exponentially busier, but I had no idea that my heart was capable of feeling any more love than it already had. The passing of my beloved grandmother, something I’d been dreading for decades, was very difficult, but I feel so lucky that I had the chance to see her before she passed away and tell her how much she meant to me.

And there have been many fun times this year, too! From watching Megan see Michael for the first time to a chaotic trip to Vegas with the kids that only lasted 24 hours, from out-of-town visitors to in-town Easter egg hunting and pumpkin decorating, it has been a terrific ride.

Here are some things I’ve learned in the last year:

o Nothing is as energizing (or rare) as a good night’s sleep. Or a really good nap.

o Despite taking lots of red-eye flights over the years, I’m just not able to do them anymore without burning out at the other end.

o Motherhood has proven to me, time and time again, that my own mother has been right about 95% of the time. I admit it.

o For those who are worried about their male newborn babies peeing on them, you just might find that your firstborn daughter can pee on you many more times in the first year.

o I am so lucky to have a job that I really, really like at an amazing school with amazing people.

o My girlfriends mean the world to me.

o So does my sister. I am unendingly grateful for her.

o My husband, despite working the crazy hours he does, truly puts his family before anything else.

o Being a mother means that you will never stop worrying.

o Being a mother also means that you will never stop feeling guilty about something every day of your life.

o I am so lucky to be part of a family of women on my mom’s side—especially Mom, Marilyn, Jenn, Stephanie, Nancy and Kate—who are strong and smart and funny and committed to themselves, their families and one another.

o Nothing stops a toddler temper tantrum as quickly as a tickle-fest.

o I didn’t know the expression “that just melts my heart” until I had children.

o Music will always be one of the loves of my life. Nothing cheers me up or calms me down quite as well.

o Sometimes, it really does take a village to help raise kids…and keep mommies sane.

As I’ve done over the past few years, I am trying to regularly count my blessings and be grateful for them. And I hope you’ll join me—because if you have gotten this far in my essay, you are surely one of mine!

Here’s to another year of “blessed days.”

This Date in History: November 4, 2009

I awoke to the sounds of Michael giggling in his room. When I walked in, he was standing up in his crib for the first time, so proud of himself. And when I praised him and picked him up, he kept trying to look me in the eye, as if to say, "Didja see it? Didja?" And away we go!

Michael, I Might As Well Apologize to You Now...

Michael, I am the second-born child as well. And I swore I would never treat my second child any differently than the first--I'd take the same amount of pictures, I'd still post regularly to the blog, blah, blah, blah. I'm sorry, but I just can't always keep that up! So I apologize for the lack of official nine-month and 10-month pictures. I love you to pieces...and that's probably why I haven't had time to update this darn blog!

Okay, guilt trip over...I'm sure there are many more in my future, anyway...

Yesterday was Halloween. On Friday, they had the annual parade at daycare/preschool.

Michael's class dressed up as frogs and princesses...

and Megan's class dressed up as Mickey and Minnie Mouses (Mice?).

Yesterday, we went to two parties. Megan was dressed as Abby Cadaby from Sesame Street.

And, while lots of people dress their babies as pumpkins or ducks for Halloween, we dressed ours up as a Vegas lounge singer. My dad had given us a tuxedo for Michael, and it just seemed to make the funniest Halloween costume. (We left off the white button-down shirt. It was very hot in L.A.!

We also gave out some candy at home and went trick-or-treating. Megan really enjoyed both, and it was so wonderful to take our kids out for the first time and especially see Megan's face as people opened doors and dropped candy into her bag.

Michael at Eight Months

Here's Michael's eight-month picture. Better late than never, right?

Things here have been totally crazy. Michael is finally getting over a stomach virus after six days. Daycare was closed last week for start-of-school-year preparations, and this coincided with my opening faculty meetings. Throw in a stomach virus and it has been totally crazy!

Other than the craziness, the kids are great. Megan is now speaking in complete sentences, which makes it so much easier to understand what she is saying. Michael is napping and going down much better at night. We are still struggling with middle-of-the-night wakings--a few nights ago he really was just tired and not sick, so we let him cry it out. One hour and thirty-five minutes later, he finally fell asleep. Other nights, P.C. and I have split shifts driving him all over the San Fernando Valley. We're working on it, though. Slow and steady. Slow and steady.

Tonight when I was putting Megan into bed, she looked at me and said, "Thank you, mama." Somehow that makes it all okay.

How Times Have Changed

I came across an email that I sent to some of my friends after our first failed in-vitro procedure. It was very touching to read it and realize how far we've come since then:

June 27, 2006
Well, our attempt at in-vitro didn’t work. We got the news yesterday. I’m just so unbelievably sad. We don’t know what our next step will be, and right now I am really stuck in sadness. We need some time to let all of this sink in. I’m struggling with the fact that I had three little lives inside me and I just couldn’t help them live. P.C is, as usual, a terrific support even though I know he is in pain too. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.

Sorry to share this by email, but it is just too hard to talk today.

Back then, having one child was just a dream. And two wasn't even close to anything I could imagine. And now here we are. Rereading the email above was a reminder to continue to count my blessings every day.

Two-Year Checkup and Coming Full Circle

Today I took Megan for her two-year-old appointment. She's doing great--36 inches tall (97th percentile) and 29 pounds (77th percentile).

Today we also made the decision to release the embryos that we had sitting in frozen storage at the fertility clinic. We decided to donate them for research. I know it was the right thing to do--we weren't planning to use them, and it felt wasteful to just dispose of them. We could have given them to a couple who needed donor embryos, but it just didn't feel right to us to possibly have "children" out there somewhere. So we decided to donate them in the hopes that the research in which they will be used will make a difference somewhere in the medical world.

We went to the clinic and saw a physician's assistant and a nurse who had been there when we conceived Megan (the nurse is Patti--see this entry for more about the terrific staff at the clinic). They didn't know that we had Michael, so it was fun to tell them about that.

It felt strange to sign the papers, though. Like the fertility journey was over, and we were signing away the possibility of more children. And it was a little sad to think that we were finished with having kids. But it also felt right. A little sad, but right. So, little embryos, safe journey. May you bring hope to others through science...the same science that helped us conceive Megan and Michael. Our little miracles.

Long Time Gone...

It has been forever since my last post. Much happening!

Michael turned seven months old on July 26. He is sitting up really well. He is slowly getting the hang of playing by himself--all those months of his being held finally caught up with us. He is still hit-or-miss when it comes to sleeping through the night. He's waking up anywhere from 3-5:30 a.m., and if he wakes up after 4 it is really hard to get him back down. Of course, we need to be up at 5:30 on weekdays anyway, so I'd happily take that! Michael is a very smiley and happy baby, which is wonderful.

Megan turned two on August 2. She is an amazing kid. She is definitely testing her limits (and ours, too), but sometimes she is just so funny that I have to bite my lip so I don't laugh. her latest thing is calling me "Jill." She knows she should call me Mommy--she just can't help herself--and has to slip in a "Jill" and then giggle. I keep correcting her, but deep down I just love the fact that she's got a rebellious streak in her. I doubt I'll be saying that when she's 13!

This is a family photo of us from Megan's birthday.

Michael's Six-Month Checkup

Michael had a great checkup today. Here are the vital stats:

Height: 27 ¼ inches (76th percentile)
Weight: 17 lbs., 3 oz. (48th percentile—of course, he ate right before he was weighed, so who really knows!)
Head Circumference: 17 inches (48th percentile)

He has a rash in the folds of his neck, but we got some cream for it and all should be fine!

Michael has tried rice cereal and squash so far. So the recipes are: rice cereal, squash, and rice cereal mixed with squash. But you have to start somewhere!

(For Megan's six-month checkup details, click here.)