Monday Mourning: Two major deaths in less than a year

Jodi Thompson has been enchanting people with her writing since she could hold a pen -- well, according to her mother. Fate smiled on her and she was able to open a small publishing company, Fawkes Press, which keeps her busy with work that is a much higher quality than her own. She lives in Texas with her husband, lots of pets, and occasionally her young adult children.

DW: Who was the person that died?

JT:  I lost two people this year that felt like one loss – my biological father, Joe, and my uncle, who I called Bubba.

DW:  How old were you at the time?

JT:  45 and 46, respectively. Their deaths were 10 months apart.

DW: How old was Joe? Bubba?

JT:  Joe was 68 and Bubba was 80.

Joe

Bubba

DW:  Was it a sudden death or did you know it was going to happen?

JT:  Joe’s death was very unexpected. His official cause of death was accidental drowning. The irony is that he spent the last 25 years of his life working as a dive instructor and dive boat captain. He was always more at home in the water than on land.

Bubba’s death was not unexpected. He had cancer seven years ago and we thought we would lose him then. He recovered and had done well for years. He had a follow-up in late April and there were no signs of cancer. He went to the emergency room with extreme weakness the first weekend of June and they found cancer all through his body – bones, liver, lungs, and brain. He never went home and passed away less than a month later.

DW:  Did you ever talk about death with Joe or Bubba?

JT:  I never, ever talked about death with Joe. It just wasn’t the kind of relationship we had.

Bubba and I spoke frequently about death and final arrangements. He was not afraid of the end and trusted me to fight (if necessary) for his wishes. My relationship with him was much more like a father and child than with Joe. (I thankfully report that there was no drama and his wishes were met.)

DW:  Had you experienced any other deaths in your personal life before this?

JT:  Yes, we have a huge family and death is a part of life. Oddly enough I cry harder when I have to bury a pet than when it is a human in my life. I’m sure a psychologist would have a field day with that!

DW:  Were people supportive of your grief or did they shy away from you when you were grieving?

JT:  Overall, people were supportive. It was very weird with Joe’s death because a huge number of people in my world had no idea he existed. My Dad is actually my stepfather - he has been with us since I was three years old. People who suddenly found out that he wasn’t my biological father didn’t quite know how to react. There were also a lot of people who knew Joe that didn’t know me and called me all kinds of horrible things. That was not helpful with the grief process at all.

It was a different story when Bubba died. I had lots of support from friends and family. He went to school with the parents of some of my school friends, we had attended the same church, and I had my cousins. I did not feel like I was alone at all.

DW:  Is there anything you wish you’d done differently with Joe or Bubba?

JT:  Yes, I wish I had been more present with Joe. We were not estranged, there was no bad blood, but we were not especially close. I would send Christmas cards, but the last couple of times I had thought about calling or enclosing a letter I had been “too busy.” If I had thought there was any chance that there would be no more opportunities, I would have made the time. It just never occurred to me that he could be there and then, suddenly, not.

Overall, I don’t think I would have changed anything with Bubba. I’m sure there are things across my entire lifetime that could use tweaking, but nothing huge that gives me regret. For the past two years, we have had a regular dinner night where I would make whatever food he requested and then take it to his house. We would have dinner, I would show him pictures of my kids, and we would just talk. After he passed, I had several people tell me that he often talked about our dinners and how he enjoyed them. That made me very happy to hear.

DW: Were they buried or cremated?

JT:  Joe was buried in a nature preserve, with a green burial. He had not left any instructions and it was important to me that he be laid to rest in the most natural way possible. He was very eco-conscious and I believe he would have approved of my choice. However, we had to find a place in Florida because it is illegal to transport an unembalmed body across state lines. (I’ve told my family that if I die across state lines, they should prop me up in the backseat and pretend I’m napping until they get back to Texas.)

Bubba had a traditional burial next to his parents. I was very happy that we were able to complete everything as he had asked.

DW:  Did you learn anything about the grieving process you’d like to share?

JT:  I think the thing I learned was that the grieving process will be different for every single person. For me, the process has been very difficult in regards to Joe. I was his only child. He never remarried. He had no siblings. His parents had passed years ago. I felt like I was carrying the weight of grief for all those missing people. Additionally, I have had to handle all the legal aspects of his death and it has really taken a toll on me. (Have a will. Make your wishes known. Please.)

I’ve had to remind myself that there is no timetable. If I start to cry because the last time I made a certain dish it was for dinner with Bubba, that’s okay. I can be sad. I can be angry. I will come out of it…eventually.

DW:  Were any songs played at the memorial service that were important to them?

JT:  Joe’s friends had a memorial service for him out at sea. They played a lot of 60s and 70s rock – basically his iPod play list. I thought that was nice. (I did not attend that service.)

“How Great Thou Art” was played at Bubba’s service. It was important to him because it was his mother’s favorite hymn and it was played at her service. I loved that at the age of 80, two plus decades after her death, he still had that deep connection and wanted to honor her in his choice of song. 

JT: Thank you, Pamela, for giving me a platform to work through this crazy year of emotions.

DW: Thank you for sharing your experience!

Do you have an experience with death that you'd like to share? People may not comment in these posts, but just like life, we don't always know what to say. But, there is a lot of traffic. It is my hope that these posts will make people feel less isolated in their experience of death/grief. So what are you waiting for? thedeathwriter at g mail dot come

The Thing About Life

Is that it ends.

I know this may come as a shock, but I swear it's true.  We can battle, we can pray, we can eat organic fruits and vegetables and drive a Prius, but one day our ticker will stop ticking.  And there's nothing we can do about it.

This is my dog's shocked face.  Actually, it's his "Did you just say treat?" face.

Actually, there is something you can do about it.  Ready?  Write this down.  It's important.

I accept that one day I am going to die.  

So while I'm alive, I'm going to be the most kick-ass, kind person I can be.

Okay, I will step down from my soap box.

For those who have been wondering, my brother-in-law, is doing much better with his new heart.  It's been a long and bumpy road to recovery for him, but he's going to be home in the next week or two.

This week I'm getting my annual exam because it's October, Breast Cancer Awareness month.  My doctor is the only person I allow to touch my boobs and insert things in my vagina without buying me dinner first.  (Oh, simmer down.  It's a joke.)

Until next time.

Oh, hey.  There's a new death book out there.  It's called

"Smoke Gets In Your Eyes: and Other Lessons from the Crematory."

 I bought it yesterday and I'll get a review up as soon as I'm finished.

Have a great week!

Working With Death: Forensic Chemist

Michelle O’Neal is a Senior Forensic Chemist at the Tarrant County Medical Examiner’s Office. With twenty-five years’ experience in drug chemistry she also assists with the recovery of buried and/or skeletal remains and the collection of trace evidence from suspected homicide victims. She is a member of several professional organizations, a current board member and a past President of the Southwestern Association of Forensic Scientists.

In the area of community service Michelle sat for two years as the Board President for The Samaritan House/Samaritan Villages housing project which provides homes for persons living with HIV/AIDS in Fort Worth and she was the 2014 Education Director for the non-profit DFW Writers’ Workshop Conference.

Through the experience gained as a drug analyst and ten years as a crime scene investigator, Ms. O’Neal shares her adventures with a twisted sense of fiction in her novel SHAMBLES.
DW: Tell me about your job.

MO: My daily duties now are mostly confined to the drug chemistry lab. I analyze substances ranging from marijuana to methamphetamine utilizing analytical instrumentation such as gas chromatography/mass spectrometry (GCMS) and Fourier Transform infrared spectrophotometry (FTIR).

I’m on the buried and/or skeletal remains recovery team and the trace evidence recovery team. If our forensic anthropologist receives and call on possible buried remains or skeletal remains, I assist with everything from packing gear to photography to uncovering human remains by meticulously brushing away soil.

In the morgue at the request of one of our pathologist, I search suspected homicide victims and collect any trace evidence such as hairs, fibers or blood that may help solve the crime.


DW: When was the first time you encountered a dead person?

MO: Honestly in my career, I really don’t remember. The very first was my grandfather. I was eight years old and we were at the funeral home where they’d laid him out on a bed. My grandmother and father kept putting his glasses on and taking them off, trying to decide which looked better. It seemed ridiculous to me and I think I blurted out something like “He’s dead he doesn’t need glasses.” My mother labeled me precocious at a very young age.

DW: How was that?

MO: Well it sure gave me a healthy view of death. Because of that experience I never felt the body was the person. The body resembled my grandfather but it wasn’t my grandfather. Even when he slept on the couch he snored loudly. My family was so matter of fact, when I stated the obvious my grandmother shrugged and put his glasses in her purse.

DW: Does seeing a dead body bother you?

MO: A lifeless body can be creepy, but it can be peaceful too. It depends on the age and condition of the body. It’s hard to curtail feelings of anger when the body is that of a child who died a violent death. Or not be repulsed by the stench of a decomposed body.

The most memorable child case I worked was the crime scene of a slain eleven year old girl. Whose mother did nothing when the little girl informed her that the mom’s boyfriend had sexually assaulted her repeatedly. With the news helicopters flapping overhead I held a lock of her blonde hair and made a promise.

From the beginning I made promises to the dead. I still stand close by and promise to do the best job possible so whoever took them from their friends and family will be held responsible. It helps me look at it as a job. A job that has to be done, a job I am well trained to do.

Two of the most difficult crimes scenes I worked were not homicides. One was an elderly man that lived with his mentally challenged son. He lay dead of natural causes in the house they shared for weeks. When the detective asked why he didn’t call someone, the son replied because I will miss my Dad. We made eye contact as I passed on one of many trips in and out of the foul-smelling house. The look of loss in his eyes still haunts me. The other was the suicide of a fifteen year old, the same age as my own son at the time. His parents were in the house. As I trekked through carrying my gear to his location in the back yard I could hear his mother’s visceral wailing. I can’t imagine the pain of losing a child for any reason.

And I’ve had family members thank me. In the mist of their grief they take the time to say Thank You. As horrible as someone has been to their loved one(s) they still find it in their heart to be kind. I’m always amazed by how people treat each other from one extreme to the other.

DW: What got you interested in this line of work?

MO: Well, being the precocious child that I was, I began reading true crime around the age of twelve. I read KIDNAP The Story of the Lindbergh Case by George Waller and I was fascinated by the way they matched the wood in Bruno Hauptman’s attic to the wood used to build the ladder found at the Lindbergh home. (The science behind this is now questioned) Then at thirteen or fourteen I read Helter Skelter, The True Story of the Manson Murders by Vincent Bugliosi. Tex Watson was convicted on the testimony of a housekeeper. He claimed his fingerprints were on a doorknob in the house because he had attended a party in the Tate home some months prior to the murders. The housekeeper testified Sharon Tate had an obsession for clean doorknobs, so she cleaned them weekly. I knew at an early age this was the career for me.

DW: In your personal life have you had any experience with death?

MO: Yes I have, three times. Several years ago a friend of mine was alone at the hospital while her father struggled with a slow death from emphysema. She had no other family so I stayed with her in his room. Before he dozed off as they increased his morphine drip he shooed her away and reached for me. He clasped my hand in his, gave me a look of knowing and closed his eyes. His last few breaths were peaceful. Oddly enough, within a week I witnessed the birth of a neighbors’ baby.

In late 2010 I was diagnosed with an atypical very fast growing, neuroendocrine cancer. I had twenty metastasized tumors in my liver. With chemotherapy they gave me six to eight months to live. I work at the medical examiners’ office, people die every day. Why should I be any different? I vowed to continue with chemo even after the first three (horrible) rounds of cisplatin did no good. I found myself comforting my friends and family I wanted them to accept my upcoming departure. Not one complied with my wishes. In the thirteen months that followed I had twelve rounds of chemotherapy and liver resection surgery. Thanks to a man that survived full blown AIDS and refused to let me die, many very special people, positive vibes into the universe, candle lighting prayers and great doctors I’m cancer free today.

My mother’s death six months ago, we removed her from life support. We said our goodbyes and once she slipped from consciousness I was the only one in family okay with it, because I knew she was ready. But when her heart stopped beating I fell apart. I miss her terribly some days, but at least she’s not in pain anymore.

DW: Any words of advice concerning death?

MO: No but I have some concerning life. Do what makes you happy today don’t plan for happiness in the future. You may not have one.