Revelations Part V: What is Family?

“Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” Ecclesiastes 4:12, NIV

January 6, 2016: After breakfast at McDonald’s, I noticed something wrong with my rental car. The license plate was missing. I notified Miranda, and then the police to report it stolen. They told me to contact the car rental place to get a new rental. The first location that I drove to did not have an extra car to exchange. I began driving to another and called while on the way. They also had no extra cars. I changed direction toward another. The third location had a car that I could use. I signed on the line and talked to the clerks at the desk, explaining why I was in town, while another checked the car. He returned and said, “Mystery solved! Your plate wasn’t stolen! That little piece of paper in the back window is a temporary plate.” It was smaller than a dollar bill. I was embarrassed and apologized for the hassle. They were gracious to me and told me I could choose to keep my first car or use the new one. I chose the new one because the paperwork was already signed and drove back to Walmart to meet the others.

That morning, the hospital had informed Val that they had given Dad’s wallet with $400 in it to Freddie. Our first stop was going to be the apartment to notify the office of Dad’s passing and confront Freddie. It was close to lunch time. Val insisted on buying him lunch to soften him up.
Miranda texted, “we are buying him White Castle.”
I responded, “White Castle? Are you trying to kill him?” Apparently Freddie really liked White Castle and had requested it.

Cory and Val left Miranda and me at the office to tell them about Dad and they continued to the apartment. After we spoke to the office staff, we waited on a couch for them to confirm. Miranda whispered, “I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
She said, “I don’t want to say it.”
I said, “You have to! You brought it up!”
After more coaxing, she confessed, “I put my gum in Freddie’s burger.”
She remembers my response as “a full out tear-crying laughter.” “You’re the best! Thank you so much for that!” I do not condone revenge, but this felt like a tiny bit of justice in a hopelessly unjust situation.
She said, “Don’t tell Cory & Val! I’m so bad! I never do things like this!”
This was one of the highlights of the week.

Meanwhile, Cory & Val were delivering said special burger to Freddie and asking him about the rest of the money. He said that it was gone. “I can pay you back, though.”
Val said, “I tell you what, Freddie, why don’t you give us your money and you can pay yourself back.”
“You mean you want all of it?” he replied. He opened his wallet and handed them another $43.00. We never received the rest.

After Cory & Val picked us up at the office and told us what happened, I said, “You know those drinks everyone had in Roger’s memory Monday night? Yeah, they were on Roger.” We picked up my car and met at a casino. One of the ticket stubs for a bet had not been cashed in and we wanted to see if it was worth anything. It was not. Cory decided to blow off some steam at a game while we three girls went into a casino restaurant for dinner. We talked about what would happen when we got home. Maybe Cory could come back for Dad’s ashes. I would write the obituary. Miranda and I would plan the memorial. We talked about family and what it meant. I believe that relatives are connected by blood or marriage. Family is connected by choice and love. As children, our lives had been separate due to circumstances beyond our control. We now had an opportunity to change that if we wanted to. We decided that we wanted to. We arrived in Vegas as relatives. We chose to leave as family.

That evening I wrote to God in my prayer journal, “I am curious to see what You do with all of this.”

This is a selfie I sent Miranda from McDonald’s before I noticed that my license plate was “stolen.”

While driving to different car rental businesses, I was constantly distracted by the Vegas landscape.

Revelations Part IV: Friend Like No Other

“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.

Revelations Part III: Stepping Into His World

“Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.”
Psalm 139:7-8

January 3, 2016: I spent the day in my pajamas, rarely leaving my rocking chair. My head was still in a fog. After a few texts, I spoke to my young friend’s sister in Vegas. “We have a room with a bed, but we just moved so we still have some boxes around the house.” By the grace of God and divine appointment, I had a place to stay.

January 4, 2016: My flight was in the afternoon, so I got up, read my Bible, and prayed. While I was on my knees talking to God, tears began to flow. I was surprised to find myself crying, really crying, for the first time. Then they stopped, as if the door of grief had slammed shut in front of me. The abrupt end was equally surprising. I finished getting ready and packing. I was uncertain about what to expect. My siblings and I were not close, and I did not know what they thought of me and I was nervous.

“I do not know what the week holds, but I know that You hold the week You have made this evident. I am so thankful that I can rest in your hands.” Written in my journal on the plane.

A few hours later, we landed in Vegas. We met for dinner at In and Out Burger and discussed the general schedule for the week, then separated for the night. When I arrived at my hosts’ home, they were preparing meals for the week with a couple of friends. We chatted until I couldn’t stay awake and I went to my room, where I found a welcome note and basket of gifts.

The next day, I learned that Dad’s roommate, Freddie, called my siblings before they arrived at their room. He was at a bar celebrating Dad’s life with some of Dad’s “friends” and he wanted them to join him. They drove to a desperate part of town. Val describes it as the kind of place “…where you… find either a cop… or addicts, dealers, and prostitutes. Nothing in between.” Freddie was inside the bar, buying drinks for everyone in memory of Roger. At one point, Val used the public restroom where she found drug paraphernalia on the bathroom counter. When exiting, she found one of Dad’s friends guarding the door to prevent people from entering while she was inside. They passed someone “shooting up” on the sidewalk when they left for the night. As they left the place in their rear-view mirror, the full understanding of where they had been began to sink in, but the greater significance of that night was not yet uncovered.

Photo provided by Val. Both sisters wanted the photo posted, but one preferred her face blurred for personal reason.

What Happens in Vegas…

It is a city of unashamed brokenness and unrivaled beauty, overwhelming excess and unlimited need. And a piece of my heart lives there. It doesn’t live in a house or expensive hotel. It doesn’t rest on a particular person who walks those flashing, flesh-lined streets. It covers the strip, the outlying communities, and the canyons in the distance. From the slot machine gambler hoping to hit the jackpot with his last coin, the young woman on the street in body paint, offering passers-by a photo op, and the beggar holding the sign that reads, “I’m not gonna lie. I need a beer,” to the gated communities, the red marbled mountains, the ghost towns, and the wild horses. It is broken. It is wild. It is real. It is beautiful.

I want to ride horses through the canyons. I want to walk the strip under the flashing lights. I want to pass through the noisy casinos full of desperate people. And I want to tell them who they are. I want to take the young woman by the shoulders and tell her that her value is so far beyond the cheap thrill someone gets from standing next to her nude-ish body for a photo. I want to tell the gambler that a sure-thing is waiting on the other side of surrender. I want to tell the guy with the sign where to find the living water. I want them all to know that they are worth dying for, and that it has already been done.

It is a lie, you know. What happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas. It follows you home. It sits on your shoulder. It whispers memories in your ear.

Vegas

The photo above is the statue in front of New York-New York, taken while I was driving back to the airport the week after my father died. Not the best photo taken while driving, but I did not want to lose that moment.

Red Rock

The photo above was taken at Red Rock Canyon the week that God breathed new life into our marriage. I pray for the opportunity to share the new life He offers with the rest of the city some day.