Three Loves (Chapter Three)

For over a year, Aunt Marce had been living with cancer, and Uncle Finley had become her primary caretaker, only taking occasional breaks to run errands, visit the library, etc.


They had been living in El Paso since late in 1986.


It had always been a dream of Aunt Marce's to own a home.


The closest they had come to that had been the lovely, four-story house where they'd lived for many years while in San Francisco. The older couple they had rented it from treated them like family in a lot of ways, and they had kept the rent affordable for them, because they weren't particularly interested in renting to anyone else.


As long as the old lady (now widowed for many years and living in a nursing home) had been alive, the house had been theirs.


After she passed on, her next-of-kin couldn't afford to keep the house, and it needed to be sold--but Uncle Finley and Aunt Marce were offered the option to buy it first.


Sadly, they couldn't afford to do so.


They ended up moving into a much-smaller flat.


In time, they moved into a cottage in the Park Merced area, which is where they were living at the time that they retired back in 1981.


Part of the year, they would take an apartment in the Sacramento area in order to be close to Aunt Marce's son, Henry, and his family. On the trip going to and leaving California, they would stay for awhile in El Paso where Aunt Marce's sister and other relatives lived.


In the summer and fall, they would spend time in Indiana, living in the north part of my house, which had been fixed up into their own three large rooms and a bath apartment.


Uncle Finley wasn't all that concerned about whether he owned his own place, rented, or (as he did with us) lived rent-free.


When he'd been married to Aunt Judy, they had owned a small home for a short time, but, then, they got a divorce and went their separate ways.


But he knew that this was important to Aunt Marce.


They came across a housing addition that was just being built where they had about three or four floor-plans to choose from.


After selecting which floor-plan they wanted, they watched their house going up.


When it was done, they moved in, and Aunt Marce soon had it looking like a dollhouse on the inside while Uncle Finley was always doing something to make their backyard into a really special place where they could host block parties, etc.


They would still travel to visit their various friends and loved ones, but they knew they had a place of their very own to return to, and that was nice.


Aunt Marce had been able to enjoy their enchanted cottage as a totally-healthy person for at least a couple of years. Uncle Finley's heart wasn't in the best shape--something that had been true for years--but he also lived life to the fullest.


One of these days, I'm going to share a funny story with you about when my folks and I took Uncle Finley to an appointment at the clinic in Cleveland, Ohio--but that will go on the back-burner for now.


When Aunt Marce turned 70 at the end of January of that year, she and Uncle Finley had been visiting Henry and family, who now lived in Oroville, California.


Henry, Marion, and the kids, along with Uncle Finley, threw a little party for her, and she got quite a few cards as well.


But Aunt Marce--although totally enjoying herself--had been far from bouncing around and mingling as had been her usual style at gatherings such as this.


Instead, she enjoyed it from a comfortable bed on the sofa.


They had a speaker phone so that they'd be able to all listen to and participate in phone conversations.


My folks and I called there to wish Aunt Marce a happy birthday, and we had a great conversation--but she said something that confused me.


She told me how much she enjoyed my birthday card and thought that the picture of the coffin on it was so beautiful.


Picture of a coffin!?!


Uncle Finley explained to me that she was having to take large amounts of pain medicine at the time, and that made her see things that weren't there at times.


A few days later, they returned to El Paso.


I knew that Aunt Marce was really sick, but I still held out hope that she might get better, and I knew that Uncle Finley was taking great care of her.


I just hoped that he wouldn't end up killing himself, as he was now caring for Aunt Marce 24/7 with very few breaks.


Uncle Finley, by his own admission, was a person whose skin crawled at the very thought of serious illnesses and sickrooms--but, when the time came to be there for Aunt Marce, he was a real trooper, taking care of even her most basic needs without complaint.


In fact, it didn't even occur to him TO complain--this was just something you did for the one you loved!


But we knew this was beyond-difficult for him, for not only was this a gross-out, but it was also done with the sad realization that it was only making her as comfortable as possible instead of curing her.


I had come home from Indianapolis that evening with a couple of really exciting bits of information on my mind:


(1) My DEMOCRAT LAWYER had expressed a desire to get together before long.


and


(2) I now knew that his birthday would be that coming Saturday.


I was going to get a birthday card in the mail to him at such a time that it would arrive right on his birthday!!!


At home, I was greeted with the news that Uncle Finley had called, and Aunt Marce wasn't expected to be around much longer--as in the thought that she could go at any time.


Yet, she kept hanging on.


Saturday arrived. It was February 24, 1990.


Aunt Marce was still on this side, and my DEMOCRAT LAWYER was now a year older.


I was hoping that she wouldn't end up dying on his birthday.


I called him on his birthday, knowing that he would be gone to spend time with his sons, but I could leave a message on his answering machine.


Aunt Marce waited until the next day to pass on.


I was watching a TV movie about the Challenger Crew when I received the news, and my first thought was that I was only watching the movie with actors and actresses playing the roles, but that Aunt Marce was now with the actual crew!


There would be a funeral mass for her in El Paso. Then, when the weekend arrived, Uncle Finley would be flying in with her earthly remains for a brief showing at Whitaker Funeral Home in Cloverdale before giving her a graveside service out at Cunot Cemetery.


Henry, Marion, and family came to El Paso for the funeral, and Henry ended up listening from right outside the sanctuary, because he couldn't bear for the last view of his mother to be of her lying there in a casket.


Aunt Marce looked very attractive--this in spite of the fact that all of the treatments she'd taken and the illness, itself, had made her face somewhat fuller than I'd remembered her.


Although the circumstances were sad, it was good to have Uncle Finley in Indiana again and know that he would be moving back to stay just as soon as he was able to sell the house.


He was in a very fragile and run-down condition when he came up for the burial, and we all comforted him as best as we could.


"You never miss the water 'til the well runs dry," he quietly observed.


There had been different times in our lives when we'd sit and talk with each other while drinking cups of herbal tea, telling each other our dreams, feelings, etc.


So I always would tell him that the teakettle would always be on for him.


When he came up this time, we shared some tea together on his last evening here, and I told him about the new and special guy in my life, saying that he and I would be getting together on the following week.


And I called Bobby to wish him a happy birthday a day early.


"Guess what I'm going to be doing on your birthday!"


"I have no idea! What ARE you going to be doing on my birthday?"


"I'm having my first date with the most wonderful guy--and you're going to like this: He's a Democrat!"


"Good! Looks as if you're wising up a little, baby!"


But plans changed, and we didn't get together on March 12 after all.


TO BE CONTINUED. . . "Three Loves (Chapter Four)"