depression

Lesson 1: No will? No Way

In her extremely organized manner, Laura left us a typed list of where everything she owned was located, and what the passwords were on each of her accounts. Her file box with tabs couldn’t have been more direct.

Because she and her friend had sold the house they co-owned, her assets were down to two cars — one she had bought so recently that the title hadn’t even been changed — and a motorcycle, plus a bank account, credit card, credit union account and an annuity. And there’s where the real trouble began.

Texas is one of the few states that allows the filing of something called a “Small Estate Affidavit” in lieu of a will. We were blessed with our daughter-in-law’s wonderful cousin who is an attorney understood this law and drew up all the necessary papers for us. Our hands were totally tied until this was processed. Her bank accounts were frozen and a couple of checks started arriving made out to the “Estate of…” that couldn’t be deposited until we were officially declared her heirs.

Blithely we took all the necessary papers, death certificates, and more to the county clerk in downtown Dallas who couldn’t have been nicer. She also couldn’t have been more wrong. After looking over all we were filing, she informed us that we were assigned to Court “A” and would be receiving our certified copies of the affidavit within three weeks. Part of the friendly service included a phone number for us to call if we hadn’t received our probated papers within that time.

Four weeks later I finally phoned the court clerk of our assigned judge who shockingly informed me that the judge only scheduled will probate appearances within three weeks. Small Estate Affidavits were (and I quote) “…insignificant and he gets to them in his spare time, usually about six or more months later.”  WHOA! My daughter’s death with a small estate was “insignificant” to the court system? Meanwhile, the checks and bills kept coming, accounts needed to be closed, two cars and a motorcycle needed to be sold, and just cleaning up what little financial life Laura had was totally on hold.

I was incensed.

Oh, and interestingly enough, our mechanic knew of Laura’s old car and had a customer who was desperate for some transportation immediately. He came and paid us cash for it with the good faith that we would have the title ready for him in two more weeks. How do we explain that?

Although I love the story about how a prominent attorney angel friend jumped in and saved this situation for us, that could probably never happen for almost anyone else, so I will get back to the point of this whole saga.

Single people, no matter how old they are, absolutely need to have a co-signer on all their banking accounts, and titles to vehicles. And, more importantly, single people absolutely must have a will, especially those who own property and couldn’t qualify for the “small estate” route. Even a short, handwritten will is valid in Texas.

You think this will never happen to you. Yet, I have three friends who have had a single adult child die in car accidents. It can happen to anyone, not just parents of the mentally ill. Parents or next of kin just don’t ever think of what all happens if they are faced with settling an estate — even a “small” one like we had. Our bank refused to set up an estate account for us because we never seemed to have all the reams and reams of paperwork they required, even after the judge had signed off on the affidavit.  Blessedly, Chase Bank pulled through because they actually understood Texas law, but this was not until we had made four trips — long trips– to Compass to try to satisfy their requests. It was mentally exhausting. The repeated punching on our emotional fragility kept us unable to focus on any other part of our moving on with life.

We had a car “sold,” a car and motorcycle sitting at our house staring at me every day with the reminder that Laura wouldn’t be driving them any longer. We had checks we couldn’t cash, and checks that were due to us that we couldn’t claim.

It was a financial nightmare forced on us at a time when we had already had the ultimate of life’s nightmares and shouldn’t have to deal with any others.

I throw this in as an aside for those who don’t know: When you go to a funeral home to make arrangements the first time, you must pay for the entire funeral, the plot, and everything but the marker in full right then. Financially we were in the position to hand them a credit card to charge $22,000 the day her body was transferred, but I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to someone who couldn’t.

Eventually, we sent the required certified copies of her death certificate and the affidavit to everyone she had ever done business with and started unraveling the knot of settling an estate. Until that point, we had three institutions on her list that wouldn’t even acknowledge we were her next of kin because they all had named beneficiaries.

Then our hearts got ripped open again.

Lesson 4: Say SOMETHING

I mentioned earlier that the most constant comment we heard, and it continues to this day, is from people who “just can’t imagine.” At least those people said something.

We were totally amazed at the outpouring of love we received from people when Laura died. The funeral home was full visitation night and the next day for her service. People we hadn’t seen in years showed up. My former students and their parents came, along with a wonderful group of my former Berkner colleagues. A large collection of her Austin friends came en masse Friday with more driving up and back on Saturday. My best friend in high school drove up from Conroe. Craig’s friends showed up with hugs and food and surrounded him and us with compassion. Charitable donations we requested in lieu of flowers came pouring in along with cards and notes. Ironically, I don’t remember even how I made it through the days from the time she was found until the funeral, but I remember well who brought comfort with their presence.

Sadly, I am also aware of the “friends” that never bothered to even a card.

Being ignored by people who I felt affection only added to the pain of our loss. Which brings the point that people claim they don’t know what to say to express sympathy. I tell you that what you say isn’t important as long as you say something! We were always very transparent about our daughter’s illness, and we never considered hiding the fact that she committed suicide.  We believed, as our minister said at her funeral, “Laura did not kill herself. Her disease killed her.” If reticence on being sympathetic was because she took her own life, then it was a compound wrong.

I still look at the cards we received and the comments posted on her Restland Obituary page because they bring me joy. People who knew and loved our Laura knew what an incredible woman she was despite the fact she battled such an awful disease. On the first Mother’s Day after her death, I received two cards from people who knew what a hard day it would be. I cherish those cards and those people. Another of her friends who lives in Spain continues to send flowers every year at Thanksgiving. She remains thankful for the childhood friendship they shared. I remain thankful for her.

I read this somewhere and am sorry that I can’t give credit to where I got it, but it said: “What we all still face at the close of each day, and that is a missing piece of ourselves, a gaping painful wound that never closes. We live with the frustration of knowing that this is a pain that we must endure for the rest of our lives, and that my friends is so tiresome and sad.”

I couldn’t have said it any better.

Because of this reality, it is important for those of you supporting a grieving friend or loved one to remember, they are forever changed, and they are forever broken, and they are forever grieving

When someone dies, another person feels pain. It makes no difference what you say, what they hear is “I care about you.”

What I wish I had done differently after she died is next

Last Lesson

I could write forever about Laura. In fact, someday I might. I’ve left out all the wonders of who she was and what she accomplished by focusing on her disease. That is not an oversight, merely a delay.

I couldn’t quit blogging about this experience without adding this one last page of advice to people who are suddenly faced with knowing someone whose child dies although much of this advice could really apply to anyone who has experienced a death in the family. I’ll make it short and succinct.

1) Say something/Do something! There was a lesson already devoted to this, so I don’t have anything to add. Show up if you can. Send a card if you can’t. There isn’t any way you can do something wrong except ignore giving your sympathy.

A caveat to that important rule is: Don’t tell someone who has lost a child that you “know how they feel” because you had a parent die. It is not anywhere close to the same thing. We have had three of our four parents die and we know how true this is. I couldn’t believe the number of people who equated Laura’s death to the loss of a parent. Skip that! Just say, “I’m sorry for your loss” and move on if you can’t think of anything else.

2) Food, food and more food: Simply put, the most valuable things we received immediately were those that we didn’t have to cook. A huge deli tray from our neighbors saved us when all 15 or so of Laura’s friends appeared at our house after the visitation. A spiral cut honey baked ham was incredibly easy to slice and couple with some potato salad or chips when we had to eat. A large pyrex bowl of 7-Layer dip made snacking easy. I could look at the list and come up with many more treasured foods, but this gives you the idea.

After all the out-of-towners left and the dust settled, we enjoyed the casseroles and take-out meals that we received and were grateful to not have to try to grocery shop or cook. But the first week of mourning we existed solely on what was easy to put in our mouths since we had no appetite at all.

3) The gift of paper plates, cups, silverware, chips, ice, drinks and wine and sandwich rolls were all blessings as well. We had so many people staying here that without disposable items, we would have been having to load and unload the dishwasher twice a day. It wouldn’t have been easy.

4) Mourners eat breakfast and snack more than they eat big meals. We were blessed with people who realized that and brought breakfast food and desserts. They were delicious and an easy way to face those times of the day and night when we needed something to pick us up.

5) Don’t ask questions. As open as we were about the fact that Laura committed suicide, we darn sure weren’t in the mood then, nor now, to share all the details of how and what she did. Only in writing this blog have I shared that she used a gun. The rest of the story is ours and if we wanted you to hear it, we would tell you.

6) Remember to call again.When the last out of town relatives and friends drove away that Sunday after the funeral, we sat there with a frightening silence.  I can’t say enough thanks to those people who realized we would need to feel they cared in the weeks and months that followed. I am a verbal person and talking about my daughter and my pain was cathartic. I’m forever grateful for those people who came later and just listened.

I’ve purposely left out how much Craig and his incredible family, especially our grandsons, saved our sanity during the darkness that enveloped our lives because many, if not most, people will not have a relationship like this to lean on, much less only a mile away.  After all, this page is a lesson plan, not an autobiography.

AND LASTLY — DO NOT EVER THINK THAT SUICIDE IS AN OPTION

Two months after Laura died a new medication hit the market that is being hailed as a wonder drug for bipolar sufferers. TWO MONTHS! I face those commercials on television with tears in my eyes to this day. I always will.

When Laura died she killed such a big part of her Daddy and me and we will never recover.  She changed the dynamic of our family with her absence and stole from the world all that she had to offer. It isn’t just our little girl buried out at Restland. It is Laura Michelle Weigel-  a sister, an aunt, a granddaughter, niece, teacher, and devoted friend. She was a woman who was always loving and always loved. We miss her and mourn her loss every single day.

In memory of Laura Michelle Weigel
January 16, 1973 ~ August 24, 2013

Oh, and one more thing….

Epilogue

I’ve mentioned Laura’s disease so many times that it finally occurred to me last night that I needed to add just a little bit more. Sadly, bipolar disease is hereditary. Neither Dennis, Craig nor I got that gene, but it is out there in the family tree and Laura lost that DNA lottery. She knew that; she saw what it did to people and led her to announce at age 20 that she would never have children because “this disease dies with me.” At the time we thought she would change her mind. We still remained blind to what was truly her life sentence.

Several years later when Craig blessed this family with his first son, Laura was overjoyed as we all were. But in a moment of candor that night she said to us, “You know I will never have a life like this. It is all I can do to take care of myself. I could never take care of another person.” By then we knew enough of her trials and realized she was being extremely self-aware. We were somewhat relieved. She lived alone for most of her 20s and 30s which led her to admit one night that, “I just can’t sustain a relationship. No one can live with me and my disease.” We worried night and day about her but she was an adult living life on her own terms. We settled for the names and numbers of two people who we could call if we were desperate to have someone physically go check on her condition. Although she had an incredible group of friends who loved her, they were all people who understood how she was and were willing to accept friendship as she had it to give. Being a “giver” was definitely one of her strongest traits when her mind allowed it.

Understand that there are many, probably thousands, of people with bipolar depression that marry, have children and live somewhat normal lives. In fact, I know two quite well. Laura wasn’t one of them.  New medications have come on the market constantly since she died and I hold out great hope that a more successful, longer lasting drug will be developed before we might ever have to face this again in our family.

Laura swallowed pills that didn’t make her well, only relieved symptoms for short periods before they lost their effectiveness. She was incredibly successful in two careers, a fact which amazes us to this day. She was loved by all of her family, an army of friends, and countless special education students who she adored. I only hope that she really knew that.

So, I will really end this time and ask that you “Think of Laura.” I know she’d want it that way. Please take a look here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SpW5KnJ_7As