Saturday Stories - June 20, 2020
To my readers, I’m trying to write a short story for Saturday. They might be sappy - or too negative (no Pollyanna today).
While today’s story might sound true, it is entirely fiction
*****
I had read his obituary and remembered my friend Josh. I reflected that he really had fallen through the cracks.
Basically, his obituary was this:
Josh Kramer died about a month ago. The uncertainty of his death date is that his body was only found ten days ago and it seemed as if he had been dead for a while.
Josh Kramer was 76 years old. Born on May 17, 1944, in Taylor Texas, he had lived all his life in the central Texas area.
He married Mary (Siewert) Kramer on June 14, 1970, in First Baptist Church of Georgetown, Texas.. They had two children, Dennis (age 47) and Becki (age 44). They were divorced in 2010. Josh had been a long time mechanic for Gruber Chevrolet in Georgetown and retired in 2008.
He is survived by his two children, Dennis and Becki, and five grandchildren, Anna, Brianna, Charity, David, and Elon.
He was cremated and his remains were interned at the Immanuel Baptist Cemetery in Taylor, Texas.
*****
But, as one of his friends, I wanted to add more and also to confess.
First, the confession. I know we all get busy. But, sometimes we need to make time for friends. I was trying to remember the last times' Josh and I had been together. I was thinking it was six months ago when I had a thought that I’d like to go fishing and called Josh. He had agreed willingly. We went to Lake Granger and spent a quiet afternoon together. I had packed a six-pack of beer and some snacks. There wasn’t much conversation, just guy stuff about fishing, sports, and politics. Josh only drank half of his first beer. He didn’t talk much, and I didn’t push him. Hey - buddies don’t pry into the other person’s life!!
The day had been pleasant. They both caught several fish. They kept about three of the larger fish and released the others.
As they were finishing up. I tried to open him up a little.
“Hey Josh”, I asked, “How are Dennis and Becki?”
Josh just kind of nodded and answered “I guess they are okay”.
To me, this seemed to be a non-answer. I tried again.
“Have you seen them lately?”
Again, Josh avoided it. “Not for a long time”.
I sensed that it would be inappropriate to ask again. On the way home, we stopped at a burger place. I tried to find out more about my friend. But, he kept up the conversation and asked me about my family.
I just sensed that Josh was kind of a lonely old man - neglected by his family. Too proud to ask others to be his friends and do things together.
*****
I had called in early November to invite him for Thanksgiving. I had called a couple of times in the summer to ask about fishing, but both times he seemed to have other things going on. That first week of November, after five rings I got his voice mail and I invited him for Thanksgiving. I also sent him a text invitation too. I didn’t get an answer from either approach.
One day when I was out running some errands, I stopped by his apartment in the Rail apartments. I saw his car in the parking lot and knocked, but didn’t get an answer. I did worry a little, but those apartments are close enough to walk to HEB or downtown to the library or a coffee shop or restaurant. I called again that night and didn’t get an answer. Now, my antennae were raised. Was he okay?
I had appointments and things to do the next day (which was a Thursday) so on Friday I first called (no answer), texted (no response), and then drove to his apartment. His car was in the same location as the last time. I parked next to it and I noticed the windows were dirty - like the dirt that accumulates over being parked for a long time.
I knocked and didn’t get an answer. But, this time I was suspicious, so I went to the management office for the apartments and one of the office staff came with me to the apartment and we went in.
The first thing that hit our nose was the smell. Then we saw his body in his favorite recliner - dead.
I called 911 (although I didn’t really think this was an emergency) and told them we had a dead guy in an apartment and needed help. Fortunately, a squad car arrived in a few minutes and joined us at the door. The policeman made a call back to the station and a detective was soon with us in the apartment.
It seemed like Josh had been dead for some time. The thermometer was still set on ‘cool’ - but early November is not a time you would run your air conditioner. The detective called a coroner who came about 20 minutes later. On his desk, there was an envelope addressed to me - but without a stamp. With the approval of the detective, coroner, and policeman, I opened the letter. It was his will.
It was dated September 12 - almost two months ago. It named me as executor of his estate. His will was somewhat limited - his bank account was at First Texas Bank in Georgetown. Half of his estate was to go to wildlife programs in Texas, fifteen percent to his son Dennis, and fifteen percent to his daughter Becki and the remaining twenty percent was to go to me - to use as I wanted.
I broke down and cried. What kind of friend had I been? Not much of one, and yet he loved me.
His note said that his dog, Simon had died a few weeks before. He hadn’t known what to do, so he had taken the dog’s body to the trash disposal.
It looked like not much had happened since his dog died. He said in his chair and watched TV, didn’t want to eat, and there wasn’t much in the cupboards or refrigerator and died.
I knew his computer password and logged on to his laptop. There were about six-hundred messages in his email. Some were news articles (it seemed like he had subscribed to MS-NBC news updates, Fox news updates, CBS updates. He had daily weather updates - and the last df opened mail was September 16. The coroner was willing to take that date of the date of Josh Kramer’s death.
With permission from the detective and Rail apartment complex manager, since I was the executor of the estate, we opened his mailbox. It was jammed full. There was very little real mail - the weekly shopper and various advertisements were in the box. The top of the mail stack was a note from the postal carrier indicating that since the mailbox was full, the remaining would be stored at the post office for six months.
With all the permissions we had to get, it has taken me most of the past ten days to get the estate figured out. His bank account shocked me. He had about six million dollars in it. Seemingly he kept saving his money - and didn’t have much use for it.
I was the winner in the phone messages “contest” - although it really wasn’t a contest. There were a few advertisement messages, some medical phone calls about upcoming appointments (and missed appointments), some from his insurance agent asking him to renew his car, and apartment insurance.
It seemed like all his bills were on automatic payment plans, so, even with his big bank account, the bills were still paid on time.
I called his son, Dennis. It was a somewhat disappointing call. Dennis said that he had not talked to his father in maybe two years. Likewise, when I called his daughter, Becki, she indicated that there had been some sort of a tiff a few years back and there had been no communication since then. There were no pictures of his children or grandchildren on his refrigerator. It seemed like the children were estranged from their father.
They were shocked that the will had given each of them each 15 percent (or about $900,000 each).
The children came last weekend (Thanksgiving weekend) to remove anything they wanted from the apartment. They came together. Dennis was living in Minnesota but Becki was in Waco and could have visited her dad. They both were crying - and I guess it was from the shame that they had neglected this father.
I called the Caring Place to donate any remaining furniture, appliances, clothes, and whatever else.
So, Josh Kramer died alone. And, maybe as his only friend, I had let him down too.
*****
So, my Saturday story this week comes with a question: Do you have friends, acquaintances, that live alone? Do you check up on them? As I am writing this in a period of isolation and quarantine, do they have people calling on them?
And, my moral: “Friends don’t let friends die alone”
Hugs!!
Karen
(Not quite Pollyanna today)
