We have all arrived at Joe and Janet's new home.... the cousin/attorney, Janet's mom & dad, and the four of us - Tom, Jim, Joe,Sr. and me. We walk into the home. On a chair in the living room is a teddy bear. I pick it up and it starts reciting "Now I lay me down to sleep". Jesus! Everyone turns and looks totally spooked. The house is spooky and we are even more so! Janet's parents are pathetic. They have lost their daughter, two grandsons and their only granddaughter is in critical condition. Holy Jesus how could this be happening?? We all have a mission.........choosing appropriate funeral clothes.
Joe, Sr. starts going through Joe's closet and chooses a suit that he had bought him when he left law enforcement and took a "real" job - that is according to his fucked up father who couldn't identify with a son who chose law enforcement as a career! His father never recognized anything he did until he became a white collar worker. My anger will come out occasionally as you will see.... I'm getting pissed off as I write this~:)
When it came to choosing socks, shoes and underwear his father picked a pair of tightie whities out of Joe's dresser drawer. I told him "Joe doesn't wear underwear like that. So "we" chose a pair of bikini type underwear. Joe had at one point earlier in his life modeled, and underwear was one of the things he did! ~:) How positively stupid all of this seemed to me. I was on the verge of regurgitating constantly because I was so freakin' undone! In my mind there was no way that this could be happening. Nothing this bad happens to people!
In the meantime Janet's parents are in the children's room (Andrew & Cameron) and they are trying to pick out clothes for the boys to be buried in. I went to try to help. It was so pathetic. There was a little shoe here and a little shoe there and the going through dresser drawers...... Christ! Help me!
Finally, at long last, we were done. "We", my group of four, went to check into a local motel where we would spend the next couple of days. Most of the next couple of days are a blur. I know there were a number of phone calls. One night we went out to eat and there was a group of motorcycle riders at the restaurant. I went into the ladies room and one of the "gals" was there. I poured my heart out to her. I came back to the table where Tom, Jim and Joe, Sr. were sitting and proudly announced that I had found a "dyke on a bike". Whatever~:) Next thing I know the guys (Tom, Jim and Joe, Sr.) were hustling me out of the restaurant and taking me back to the hotel. I think I probably just fucking lost it!! I was crying and screaming hysterically.... "Oh my God, not my Joe. Not my baby. Not my son."