It’s a nightmare.
Today is 2 days since Chris found that his mom had passed away.
While I was at Ruby lunch, he got a call and messaged me that his mom passed away. Just like that. When I saw it, I first wanted to know—his mom or dad? He hadn’t specified just a parent. But he wouldn’t have told me unless it was his mom.
I have been telling people that it was a complicated relationship but only with a few I have gotten into details.
It’s Sunday morning and we’re about to drive down. And the feeling is, what are we going to see?
On Friday, he had received a call from the police. Then a medical examiner which I was around for when I came back from lunch. That’s when he found out that she had been dead for awhile and they had picked the lock and found her dead. And decomposed. They had sealed the place and contacted the legal next of kin, namely Chris.
Originally, based on the reports, it seemed like his dad had sent a wellness check. But we learned that it was something later.
There’s a lot of feelings of course about this. Because Chris hadn’t spoken to his mom for years. Or at the very least, it was her sending simple messages but because of past stuff, he just didn’t respond. The last he knew was that her car was totaled in April/March but he didn’t respond. What was there when there was all this past history?
Of course, he had never told me that he had, based on his therapist’s suggestion, sent a wellness check with the local police at the end of July. They did and supposedly they got a sense that everything was okay although nobody answered and a neighbor said that they were there.
I encouraged Chris to contact people. He did finding names of people—his mom’s friend, his Malaysian cousins.
But I imagine the guilt. I hold some of it, but not exactly. I know that I have been the cause of some things. The fact that she met me back in the day in 2007—right after he performed in the LA junior symphony, she took my sister and me and Chris to tofu. It was fine and I was polite. But for whatever reason, afterwards, she told him that she didn’t me. I had a job that wasn’t clear—who understands a job in UX? My skin was dark—not light like my sister’s. And a litany of things. It was complicated and likely grew over time as I lived my life. I constantly was hurt that he “hid” the presence of me when she visited and when he visited. Every time they interacted, it always seemed like he came back less of a person, steam-rolled, avoidant, unhappy. It would take so long then he would come back to life.
Then in 2017, after I had encouraged him to see his mom when I was out at a writers conference in the westside, he visited and it wasn’t good. Maybe that was the last time.
Then I guess that was it.
The guilt of not doing. The guilt of not saying anything. It’s complicated I say.
And I think, if they did talk, what would have happened? It might have been the same. All the same.
I heard from his father for the first time. They hadn’t spoken since a surprise dinner more than 10 years ago. His father was matter of fact. It seemed like his father was intending to meet her, but there wasn’t a response. So he went over. And called the police. And was there very late. I sensed a sense of resentment in his voice. We learned some details. But barely. There wasn’t much emotion. The question is, what is he owed?