“One who has unreliable friends soon comes to ruin,
but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.”  Proverbs 18:24, NIV

January 5, 2016: Our first stop was the motel where Dad had lived during the last days of his life and worked for a short time.  We met his friend Mel, a clerk at the motel.  He wore a jogging suit and sneakers.  He reminded me of Reuben from the movie Ocean’s 11.  He portrayed himself as one of Dad’s best friends and told us that he had gotten Dad a room at the motel when he could no longer handle the stairs at his apartment.  He gave us the keys to Dad’s truck and when we stepped back outside, it was decided that I would drive the truck.  Miranda offered to ride with me.  The radio was on, and I asked her if it was okay.  She said, “Yeah, I like to sing really loud when I’m stressed.”  I agreed, so we turned up the volume and sang out our tension.

And I said, “What about Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”
She said, “I think I remember the film
And as I recall, I think we both kinda liked it”
And I said, “Well, that’s the one thing we’ve got

Driving my dead dad’s truck through the streets of Las Vegas: One thing I never imagined I would do.

We drove to a nearby Walmart and began going through the truck.  I did not know my dad’s general habits, but Val said that this was where he kept records: in his truck.  Looking through the glove compartment, behind the seats, and above the visors, we found bank statements, credit card statements, the purchase agreement for the truck, and ticket stubs for bets that he had made.  Dad liked to gamble.  A lot.

It felt like we are in a Lifetime movie.  Four Michiganders taking on the dark streets of Vegas in a rented Mitsubishi, trying to sort out the life of our estranged father.  I actually looked around the parking lot a couple of times, half expecting to see a camera over my shoulder.

Next we drove to Affordable Cremation & Burial Service.  They told Val the price that they had quoted her the week before was no longer valid because it was given in 2015 and this was 2016, so they would not honor it.  We had to pay $100 more.  The director handed us the information that would be on Dad’s official cremation record and Las Vegas obituary to check the accuracy.  Val handed it to Cory who handed it to Miranda who handed it to me, and I thought, “I this is something I can do!” I awoke my inner grammar Nazi.  I noticed that they had misspelled Val’s first name.  And Miranda’s last name.  And the word “cremation.”  Apparently Affordable Cremation & Burial Service could not afford to use spell-check.  Cremation arrangements were made, documents were signed, and they agreed to notify us when the cremation was completed. One of us would then travel back to Vegas for Dad’s remains.

We drove to Dad’s apartment where Freddie was going to meet us.  He was running late but gave us permission to go in and get Dad’s belongings.  He told us that they were boxed up in the living room.  We found a two boxes of Dad’s possessions on the couch and the contents of his wallet in a rubber band on a night stand.  Dad rented the apartment and allowed Freddie to live there because he had no other place to live. It did not make sense that all of Dad’s belongings fit into two boxes.  His wallet was even missing.  Cory said, “Where’s the cash money?  Dad always carried cash.  Where is it?”  We all knew this was true.

Freddie arrived few minutes later.  He was a friendly person and seemed happy to see us.  “Did you find everything?  Good!”

Cory said, “Where is Dad’s cash?  He always carried cash in his wallet.  Where is it?”

Freddie absently patted his front pocket, paused, then gestured questioningly, “Oh, did YOU need that?”

“Yes, Freddie.  Yes, we did need that.  We need it to pay for his cremation,” Val responded.  Freddie slowly pulled out his wallet and handed Val $220, leaving a few dollars for himself.

We piled back into Val’s rental and drove to a parking lot where Val called the hospital.  She left a message with the person who was responsible for releasing Dad’s possessions to Freddie.  We were suspicious about how much of his money Freddie had actually received.  After hanging up, she saw that Mel had left a message and called him back.  He did not know that she put him on speaker phone so we could all hear what was said.  “Val, Roger said that his son hurt him really bad, stole from him or something.  I just wanted you to know.  Be careful who you trust.”  If anything had happened, it would have been 30 years ago. Mel also did not specify which son, and Dad had two. Cory was hurt that Mel implied that he might have done this.  “I don’t know what he’s talking about!  I never did anything like that!”

My anger surfaced again and I said, probably a little too loudly, “Cory don’t pay any attention to him.  He shut all of us out because he didn’t want to get hurt.  He hurt all of us to protect himself.  Even now, he’s hurting you from the grave.  Don’t let him do it.”

They drove me back to my rental car and we split up for the evening.  I had not spent so much time with those siblings since I was 6 or 7 years old, and in all of the craziness, I saw a glimmer of potential.  In my journal, I wrote, “Good may come from this.  If we can continue the relationships that we have started here, it could be good.”

Photo: My hosts’ sweet pup, Pepper.  He was the perfect comforter.