lessons in life (and death)

After visiting the funeral home for the 2nd time in a week I have learned a lot in how death is dealt with on the other end.  It costs money..  like *alot* of money to have the obituary in the local newspaper where BG used to work her ass off as an inserter.  Nobody but old people uses that venue, mostly choosing to let social media and the funeral home get the word out.  No $ for you, we said.  You can never have too many death certificates because when somebody passes, there are finances to be dealt with and such. Also, a funeral home courtesy.  The cremains won't be present for the service but that's okay.  It is what it is and it's about who he was in life.It's an odd position to be in, the ex-wife X 2 and baby mama to an only child.  I've tried to sit back and let her do things her own way because she was the light of his life.

My favorite picture is of the two of them when he was teaching her to ride a pink bike, her first, on gravel. She was four when we moved here and had all kinds of adventures on the farm growing up.  His favorite fishing hole is right across the road and I came home a lot of times to a note that said "gone to the riverbed" which I knew meant peace for him.  He worked very hard for many years at the local rubber plant doing doubles on weekends to support our family.  When that family went away, so did a piece of him and that haunts me still.

The spiral was a process and one that took place over a number of years.  It ended with jail time and sobriety for him until the day he died which is something his court appointed attorney told me would never happen.  What.An.Ass.  The public defender's office gave me some advice on how the whole thing would go with our local judge and that requires about six months of sitting in a cell eating baloney sammiches.   He got in trouble one time for rolling up turnip greens and trying to smoke 'em...heh.

Once upon a time an old hippie from Lake county wrote a song about him called "Pnoler Stood".  And indeed he did, for honesty and loyalty and all things honorable.  He had a big old smile after the bridge and it was infectious to whomever was around.  He worked hard and he played hard, a true southern gentleman. He loved Nascar and football and anything deep fried, especially if home grown.  Lauren and I are grieving in separate rooms, writing about who James Parker was in life to us.  Please help us to keep the faith ^j^