Lewy's Last (Cackling) laugh.

This picture captures what we felt during this whole trip...defeat...or, "Screw It, I'm Going HOME!!!!"
But Lewy's last stab at us was just NOT going to work!


January 14th, 8am. We missed our first flight. By two minutes. Oh, no...the plane hadn't left yet, it still had about 28 minutes until take off. But there's some new thing since I flew last that states you have to have gone through security 30 minutes prior to take off or too bad for you. It didn't matter that we told them we were flying in for our Dad's funeral...that we were going to be the only two people there. In a "series of unfortunate events", we just didn't make it there in time. Car windows frosted up, traffic, whatever. It just was not going to happen. No one's ever bent the rules for me before...so why, even though passengers were still getting organized on the plane, even though they weren't done loading luggage yet, would they forgive us two minutes now?
We were rescheduled for a flight quite a few hours later. Went to eat, called the car rental place and the hotel we were supposed to stay at to let them know when we "should" arrive...and got back with plenty of time to board this time. Okay.
6-ish pm. We get to our first destination where we are supposed to have a short layover. We go eat.
When we're on the tram that spans this enormous airport, I see the time and it doesn't make sense to me...we're TWO hours ahead (it say's 8-ish pm)? Huh? We ask someone on the tram and they confirm that time is correct. We RUN to the desk. Our flight left a half hour ago. When we finally figure out how the hell we could've missed another flight...it turns out that NO, we did not have any time to go do ANYTHING. We thought we were only one hour ahead. We were two. So that ultimately meant that we actually only had about 6 minutes to get from our first flight to the flight we just missed. Not an HOUR and 6 minutes like we thought. So really, we may not have made it either way. Forget about it.
We were stuck overnight. NO luggage. Which means no clothes, toothbrushes, etc.
We're just laughing at this point.
We get rescheduled again for the next flight to Roswell, which isn't until the next morning at 9:45am...and it will get us there with barely enough time to get to the cemetery for the service at 11am (the flight is 1 hour 35 minutes, minus the 1 hour time difference). We will have to go straight to Dad's service with the clothes we still have on. Forget the clothes I so carefully picked out to be presentable for saying goodbye to my Dad one last time. Forget the warm jacket I made sure I had in case the weather took a turn, which it did. Prepare to freeze.
Seriously, just laugh, that's what we did.
We called to get a hotel for that night. They gave us toothpaste and all those necessities...at least we had that! The girl gave us the room card/key and told us what floor we're on. It doesn't register as we say thank you and were walking away toward the elevator.
I stop.
I say, "What floor are we on? What did she say? What room number.........?" We are on the 13th floor in room 1367. 13...and then 6+7=13. 1313 on the 13th floor.
We are just dying from laughter.
I thought there wasn't supposed to be a 13th floor!
We get on the elevator and this woman boards also, asks us how we're doing tonight and we are laughing, telling her we missed two flights, blah blah blah...and now we're on the 13th floor in room 1367. She starts laughing, which we expected...but then she says, "Well, it happened to the right people!".
Crickets.
Then we just start busting out laughing again.
We get to the room, RE-call the car rental place and cancel the hotel room we should have been in by then in Roswell (I still don't know if they are going to take mercy on us on not charge us).
Miraculously, nothing happened to us in that hotel room.
We got up the next morning and showered. Stupidly I washed my hair and didn't think about the fact that I did not have a BRUSH! So I weeded through my mangled, wet mop and tried to dry it. We head to the elevator, go down and grab a quick breakfast snack at the front, and get on the shuttle to the airport.
The shuttle driver had said something about making sure we check our gate before settling in any section...and we found out why. We were supposed to be at B24, so we check in at B24. They say go to B12. At B12, they say go to B1. We run what seems like miles to B1, and they say go to B9. Over the loud speaker there is a recording that repeats something to the extent of, "Please make sure you check your gate, as your gate status may change at any moment". No kidding?! The girl at B9 says we might as well wait until a few minutes until our flight is due to leave to check our gate. Hmmm. Me thinks that is how people keep missing their flights!
But...we had PLENTY of time to sit and wait for our flight this time. So we sat, read, drank too much coffee, and laughed at the people and the things they do and say. We kept checking our gate, which changed two or three more times. A few pretty comical characters and dazed stewardesses later, we got to Roswell in one piece. Right off the bat, brother tells the car rental guy that we are in a hurry to get to our Dad's funeral and that was the fastest I have ever been helped in my life. Thank you, Roswell Hertz!
We got to the cemetery just as the funeral director was telling one of the Vet's for the service that we should be hopefully be there soon. (I had called him that morning to tell him we were arriving that morning instead of the day before...he seemed a little concerned that we wouldn't make it). We had about 10-15 minutes to spare for our Dad's service when we arrived. We were wearing jeans, sneakers, and sports-type sweaters...yes, and the same underwear from the day before.
There were about 8 chairs set out for people to sit...of course we're it...but the director asks if we want to wait to see if anyone else shows up after they saw the obituary. I tried to calmly say, "Um, but we didn't give you the obituary yet..." to which he said, "Oh, that's right, you're right."
I panicked a bit when he said that. If any obit. had already run, that would mean that the relatives that live there would've seen it and possibly shown up. Dear god.
For those who may not have read my entire blog and don't understand the "why" behind the decision to exclude certain people from this occasion, the summary is this: inviting one, or the few people who have been supportive over the years would've meant they'd all know...and from the drama that ensued after Papa, then Nany's, passing, we chose to avoid the dramarama. This was OUR Dad. Ours. And Daddy was not that happy about how things went down when Papa and Nany passed either, not that he would've ever said anything to anyone but us, but it just wasn't right. It was downright ridiculous, actually. And we really didn't need anyone showing up high, drunk, or out of some ridiculous obligation to prove they are someone they are NOT, and we honestly didn't need sympathy from people who in the past demanded furniture and personal belongings (or money) in a situation they should have stayed away from. If any relatives see this and get mad...then they are the people who did these things. Those who were caring and supportive would understand and move on. Those who were caring and supportive don't even need this explanation because they know what really happened. Those who were caring and understanding and knew our Dad in the slightest know EXACTLY what I'm talking about. Enough said.
So the director told us that some woman had called the day before to say they were sending a check to help pay for funeral expenses...he couldn't remember who it was. I didn't know if it was some sort of credit from the nursing home, or what...I guess we'd find out later when we signed the paperwork before our flight home.
When we were standing next to our Dad's casket, but facing our Nany and Papa's headstone...we saw the date that had been engraved for Nany's date of death was WRONG. The engraving had been done after we'd gone back to CA in Jan. 2007. The director said that someone in the family had to have signed off that this was the correct date...he seemed a little disappointed that it had been done wrong too...but oh well, what can you do? It's literally engraved in stone, so that's it.
Anyway, the service was short and sweet. We had the local Vet's do their thing, and it was really quite nice. One read all about our Dad's military service, awards he'd received...some things that I didn't even know. They saluted, presented me with the flag, and marched off. Well, in one vet's case, he actually got stuck in a clump of grass in his wheelchair and was mouthing obscenities to himself, but the whole sentiment was really great. I actually rather enjoyed seeing the little things that didn't go "perfectly"...because, hello? Then it wouldn't be tailor made for US...not to mention that anything that would distract me from crying was completely needed.
We left, drove by Nany's old house, drove by the house Dad grew up in (it had been leveled...just a concrete slab remained), and ate some lunch. Brother's phone showed that he'd missed a call from our area code (no message though) so he called it back. It was Robin from CEPS. Remember her? Well she was calling to say that they were going to send the remaining portion of our Dad's Social Security check to the mortuary to help pay for the funeral expenses. She was sickenly sweet and said that "they were so sorry to hear about our father's passing". Right. But we'll gladly accept that money to deduct from the thousands we were about to sign a check for.
We went to a few of the UFO places and got this gnarley alien "skull" that my husband saw on our last trip there and wished we had for Halloween ever since. Then we went to the mortuary to sign paperwork and write out a check, and we were able to deduct the money CEPS was going to be sending.
We had stopped to get some flowers to put in the vases on Nany and Papa's headstone, and some for our Dad. A few relatives from out of state (nice ones that we like) had sent two arrangements for us...one for our Dad and one for the middle vase on Nany and Papa's stone. It looked really nice when we were done.
We headed to the airport to GO HOME!
Everything there went very smoothly...well, except for the fact that I tried to order an iced, decaf mocha from the cafe there and the woman made me a hot, caffeinated drink twice. When I asked for "iced", she came at me with a scooper full of ice, saying, "you wan' ize?".
Yes, I wan' ize. The thing was so hot that there was no way it'd be cool enough to drink by the time our flight left. Brother got me a cup of ice, which made it undrinkable, so I threw it out.
The plane from Roswell is one of those really small puddle-jumpers, so not a lot of people to deal with or nonsense. There was a young mother and her little girl seated in front of us for the flight. The little girl had to be around 2, but she didn't have much of a vocabulary...so she kept making these noises that sounded like funny things that we would repeat to each other, and we played with her as she peeked over the top of the chairs and made her funny sounds. She was much more fascinated by my brother than me, so everything she said was aimed at him. One thing she kept saying sounded JUST like she was saying "you're gay"...well, more like, "Yagay!", and my brother would say, "No I'm not!" and she'd laugh. When she made noises to me, it sounded more like, "Yeahya!"...I don't know if you've ever seen Dave Chappelle's imitation of Lil' Jon, but she said it just like him. Too funny. Another nice distraction.
I came across this online...and I think it pretty well sums up this whole trip.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=iEZo84KNxKs

We got to our final destination at about 10pm that night. Getting "home" was another hour and a half...and I pulled into my driveway at 2 minutes past midnight...but we made it.
And Daddy is at peace now.
Lewy might've gotten in a seriously long last cackling laugh, but that's his FINAL laugh...for us anyway. I know that Lewy lives on in others, and that some people's fight with him has just begun, and I honestly feel sick at that thought. And I can only hope that no one else in our family is introduced to Lewy in this lifetime...and/or that a cure is found. I dunno. There is no right thing to say here except that I wish no one else had to go through this.
It has been a long, tear-filled road of frustration, anger; sadness; guilt; sleepless nights; broken dishes & furniture; flooded flooring; Depends undergarments; lost shoes, keys, wallets, minds, etc; "stolen" everything (both real and imaginary); horrible facilities; horrible caregivers; wonderful facilities and caregivers; Financial worries from hell; imaginary people who can meld into any shape they wish; a-hole Social Workers; losing friends; finding friends in the oddest places; finding out who is behind you and who never was; really expensive, useless legal paperwork; watching someone slowly forget you; watching someone forget themselves; seeing yourself age 10 years in 3; and all-but-giving-up until you realize you are the only one who hasn't...a never-ending list in a spiraling journey never to be forgotten (unless Lewy someday gets to us too).
Tomorrow: anything is possible.