Shrek Of The Arctic
Member
- Joined
- May 22, 2019
- Messages
- 330
- Reaction score
- 1,081
I've been spending the last few months of my life helping care for my wife's side of the family. Her Father is in very poor health and speeding down the dementia freeway down in Texas. Struggling to get her four sisters to agree and help with his care is nigh impossible. The only thing they seem to care about is wanting all of daddy's money which, if it ever existed have long ago been gambled away in the casinos. Her Sister here in Alaska is at end of life care for cancer. Additionally at work, I'm posted in the prison infirmary, which is pretty much where inmates come to die. We had one die a few months ago who died screaming for help, because he couldn't get past the locked doors. Other officers were amused and inferred he was talking about the prison doors. I took the doors he was struggling with on an entirely different more religious perspective that is still affecting me. Suffice to say, dying and dying well has been a frequently pondered topic for me lately.
The Sister in Law is twice widowed, and has been pretty much poor all her life. Consequently, she's a bit of a hoarder, and incredibly attached to what few baubles and trinkets she owns. She is currently spending her days blown out of her mind on pain pills, and complaining about us "Trying to run her life" and steal all her precious valuables. She does not in the least understand the trust process, and every penny she does get, she tries to hoard in her house so no one will likely find it. I think her cremation and wake are gunna be out of our pockets, while she's hoarding thousands Heaven only knows where. I guess I'm not so naive as to expect attaboys and pats on the head for taking care of family and end of life care, but I didn't expect it to be such a kick in the painful spots either.
The other day while my wife and I were discussing it I told my wife "She better learn to let go of her darn trinkets and baubles, or she ain't ever gunna leave this Earth cause she'll be too attached to that stuff!" She is leaving a Colt 1911 to my son, and I warned him he better take good care of it, or she'll likely still be around to whup him if he don't.
All this brought to mind a conversation I had with a friend back when I was working the oilfields. He is an amazing outdoorsman and a guide here in Alaska. He's hunted much of the world and hosted other hunters from around the world on successful hunts. He's deeply religious and devoted to his family.
We were talking about guns, knives, and outdoor stuff in general. As for myself, I know I have an eye for neat shiny (And sometimes no so shiny) things. Old guns, nice knives, etc. are easy examples to name. I know it's a bit of a weakness of mine, which I think may have lead him to the story he told me. I'm re-telling it as a para-phrase, cause it was many years ago, and though I remember the sentiment like it was yesterday, there are specifics long forgotten.
He had been working outside all day and came in for a lunch. Basically to make a sandwich, heat up a can of soup, etc. When he entered the kitchen, he found his wife...in a mood. She had just burned the Birthday cake she had been baking for one of the kids. Their Birthday party was gunna be in a few hours, and she was feeling the pressure. She vented to him about her dilemma while he was making his lunch and he calmly shrugged his shoulders and told her "So...just..bake another cake... or go buy one...." This passive attitude was not the thing to placate an angry wife at that time. She started hollering at him about not caring about all these important things. She then pointed at a rifle in the corner and said "I bet you'd care if it was that stupid gun!"
Well....that stupid gun was....a custom built rifle worth about $6K or so. I wanna say it was a Remington action...maybe a Mauser 98. It had custom engraving, Circassian walnut stock, high end European scope. It had been gifted to him by someone he'd hosted on a Grizzly hunt, as I recall.
So, my friend stands up, picks up this rifle, and pulls the bolt from it. "This rifle?" he says? And then he steps onto his elevated back porch and flings it as far as he can into the gravel and the woods. She was devastated to see him do this to a rifle she knew he loved. He calmly sat down and without raising his voice told her "The cake...the rifle...it's all stuff. Just...stuff. It is not of the soul, not of the flesh. In the end, it means nothing"
His actions were...perhaps a bit extreme, but his point is well taken. I guess it comes to mind for me lately with the sister in law, making herself so much more miserable fretting about her stuff getting stolen when she's knocking at death's door. She does have some family valuables from their deceased mother that matters, but when she goes, most of her stuff is going to go into a dumpster or donated to charity. The house she's in will likely be leveled. The property MIGHT go to our kids, which is nice and what she said she wanted when she was more lucid, but there's a more likely chance it will go to the state. Especially since she isn't trusting or understanding and is downright fighting our efforts to make a will, a trust, and keep it in the family.
Additionally, I ponder the notion with my own collection of guns, knives, and outdoor stuff. This is especially after seeing a few fellow gun guys pass on, and what happens to their collections. I've rarely seen the kids wildly thankful for dad's favorite hunting rifle or wives that benefit greatly from the sales of other guns and peripherals. It happens, but not with the frequency. we'd hope to see. So, when I look at my collection these days, I wonder how many years of enjoyment I have left in these things. Whether they will become a burden to my family when I die, or whether they'll be appreciated by my own children. After all, it's just stuff. I think...?
The Sister in Law is twice widowed, and has been pretty much poor all her life. Consequently, she's a bit of a hoarder, and incredibly attached to what few baubles and trinkets she owns. She is currently spending her days blown out of her mind on pain pills, and complaining about us "Trying to run her life" and steal all her precious valuables. She does not in the least understand the trust process, and every penny she does get, she tries to hoard in her house so no one will likely find it. I think her cremation and wake are gunna be out of our pockets, while she's hoarding thousands Heaven only knows where. I guess I'm not so naive as to expect attaboys and pats on the head for taking care of family and end of life care, but I didn't expect it to be such a kick in the painful spots either.
The other day while my wife and I were discussing it I told my wife "She better learn to let go of her darn trinkets and baubles, or she ain't ever gunna leave this Earth cause she'll be too attached to that stuff!" She is leaving a Colt 1911 to my son, and I warned him he better take good care of it, or she'll likely still be around to whup him if he don't.
All this brought to mind a conversation I had with a friend back when I was working the oilfields. He is an amazing outdoorsman and a guide here in Alaska. He's hunted much of the world and hosted other hunters from around the world on successful hunts. He's deeply religious and devoted to his family.
We were talking about guns, knives, and outdoor stuff in general. As for myself, I know I have an eye for neat shiny (And sometimes no so shiny) things. Old guns, nice knives, etc. are easy examples to name. I know it's a bit of a weakness of mine, which I think may have lead him to the story he told me. I'm re-telling it as a para-phrase, cause it was many years ago, and though I remember the sentiment like it was yesterday, there are specifics long forgotten.
He had been working outside all day and came in for a lunch. Basically to make a sandwich, heat up a can of soup, etc. When he entered the kitchen, he found his wife...in a mood. She had just burned the Birthday cake she had been baking for one of the kids. Their Birthday party was gunna be in a few hours, and she was feeling the pressure. She vented to him about her dilemma while he was making his lunch and he calmly shrugged his shoulders and told her "So...just..bake another cake... or go buy one...." This passive attitude was not the thing to placate an angry wife at that time. She started hollering at him about not caring about all these important things. She then pointed at a rifle in the corner and said "I bet you'd care if it was that stupid gun!"
Well....that stupid gun was....a custom built rifle worth about $6K or so. I wanna say it was a Remington action...maybe a Mauser 98. It had custom engraving, Circassian walnut stock, high end European scope. It had been gifted to him by someone he'd hosted on a Grizzly hunt, as I recall.
So, my friend stands up, picks up this rifle, and pulls the bolt from it. "This rifle?" he says? And then he steps onto his elevated back porch and flings it as far as he can into the gravel and the woods. She was devastated to see him do this to a rifle she knew he loved. He calmly sat down and without raising his voice told her "The cake...the rifle...it's all stuff. Just...stuff. It is not of the soul, not of the flesh. In the end, it means nothing"
His actions were...perhaps a bit extreme, but his point is well taken. I guess it comes to mind for me lately with the sister in law, making herself so much more miserable fretting about her stuff getting stolen when she's knocking at death's door. She does have some family valuables from their deceased mother that matters, but when she goes, most of her stuff is going to go into a dumpster or donated to charity. The house she's in will likely be leveled. The property MIGHT go to our kids, which is nice and what she said she wanted when she was more lucid, but there's a more likely chance it will go to the state. Especially since she isn't trusting or understanding and is downright fighting our efforts to make a will, a trust, and keep it in the family.
Additionally, I ponder the notion with my own collection of guns, knives, and outdoor stuff. This is especially after seeing a few fellow gun guys pass on, and what happens to their collections. I've rarely seen the kids wildly thankful for dad's favorite hunting rifle or wives that benefit greatly from the sales of other guns and peripherals. It happens, but not with the frequency. we'd hope to see. So, when I look at my collection these days, I wonder how many years of enjoyment I have left in these things. Whether they will become a burden to my family when I die, or whether they'll be appreciated by my own children. After all, it's just stuff. I think...?
