I was especially hurt that Robin never told me the last day she would work there and it struck me so similar to the harsh way I found out about Jean's death. While the shock was only those three days I wondered if she was going to be coming back to work. It hit me at work the hardest as I saw the empty wrapping area and it reminded me of the angry tone I took which was the last she saw of me.

It really hurt me that she never told me her last day, for if I knew I would have kept a much better composure, given her my best wishes and thanked her for her effect upon my life. The problem for me now was there was no closed darkroom to hide in, so I got emotionally overwhelmed for months and I didn't know where or when it would hit me.

If at all possible, I ran to the bathroom; but usually I could be found between printing press units crying, or hidden within the large piles of stacked ink cans. I knew it was something I couldn't hide from, and my coworkers did notice, but I appreciated their respect and understanding.

I couldn't help but listen constantly to the song that expressed it best for me. Dr. Hook's, "More Like The Movies."

"I guess the dance is over now
So you just curtsey and I'll bow
And ask the band to play us Auld Lang Syne"

"Then I'll just take what's left of me
Right back to where it used to be
And you'll go sail your magic carpet, far across the sky..."

The grief was hitting me at home as well, but ironically it seemed the impending doom of the marriage muted out my feelings from Robin's unrequited leaving. Still it was Robin's leaving on her terms that made it much harsher and harbored more regrets.

My conversation at home with Rita consisted of, "Shut up!" "Leave me alone!" or, "Get the fuck out of my house!" Outside of that, I didn't entertain any talk, discussion or argument with Rita. I had enough and wanted her to leave, yet to her origianal promise, and me not paying any more exhortation money to her then I had to.

One comment did illicit a response from me, "You better remember, I am still your wife!"

"Still your wife? To me you are nothing more than some whore, living off my dime until you get yourself in a better situation. Obviously your friend doesn't want to support you and as far as I am concerned, you deserve each other."

"If you want me to consider you my wife; give me your money so I can put it towards paying the bills, make me and the family meals, and for God's sake let me sleep when I need it!"

I couldn't help to add this one! "Oh by the way, if you do still consider yourself my wife, get on your knees and open your mouth ... For once do things right and satisfy me." You should have seen the look on her face with that one, provided me with a certain humor. I was so tired of the word, "I," from her with never a sense of, "Me," or my feelings in the picture.



That outburst brought me the peace of avoidance for about a week, but then she completely broke down and once again demanded money so she can leave, adding, "Even your, fucking haunted house doesn't want me and if I stay here, something's going to happen to me!"

I finally felt that opened the dialog on her leaving, "Ok Rita, you want me to pay you to leave; I will, but I will not pay you what you want. I want you to write down an itemized list of what you need in order for you to leave."

With protestation she did, and while it was a pretty penny, it was still about a third lower then what she wanted. Mainly to pay off her sizable credit card bill, money to secure an apartment and to buy some furniture as well, and a bit to live off for a short while.

Pension-wise it was doable and I immediately went to work and applied for a hardship distribution from the profit sharing. What I requested was the amount to get her out of my house, the taxes and penalties I would have to cover, and a bit so I could purchase a few things or make improvements on the house.

The Boss Man showed understanding, but he felt I should instead fight her tooth and nail. I explained I understood his sentiments, but didn't have the resources to devote for such a fool hardy endeavor, and no matter what, there is a minimum cost to any divorce situation and this was the best overall route to go.

The Boss Man simply told me that he will put things into the works. Rita also wanted to keep her health insurance until the divorce was final. I guess I was to consider myself different from any other employee in a state of separation as he stated, "Well our policy is that we don't cover separated spouses or their children unless they are blood related to you."

I didn't like the air of chiseling me, "I remember the last company policy regarding coverage, and it clearly stated the company terminates health care coverage when the divorce is final and any arrangements made after the divorce is solely paid by the employee. I know for a fact, you have covered all the other employees during their separations."

He reluctantly agreed to this, but refused to shake my hand and the next step for me was to the lawyer, who was the same person I went to when I considered adopting Jimmy. He immediately told me his fee for the no fault divorce and I provided him with a down payment, with agreement to pay him the rest when I get the profit sharing money.

"Ok, Mr. Kohlman, here is what you are going to do to get her out of the house. You are going to stop paying the bills so everything gets shut off, you are not going to buy any more food for them to either make her buy the food and stop going to bars, or starve them out. Last, you are going treat Rita and her children in such a manner, so they know they are no longer welcome."

"Sorry, that is unacceptable to me. I am working on an agreement to take money out of my profit sharing and want to pay her what she needs to get out; also she wants some furniture and continuation of health care until the divorce. I want an agreement written up so that she won't be able to ask for anything else from me."

"What? That's not how to get her out of your house, why do you want to give her a damn thing when she hasn't contributed to the marriage?" It looked like he pretty much had the opinion I was the craziest person that he met.

I basically told the attorney, I couldn't do things the way he wanted because of the children involved; as I put a lot of time and effort raising them and I always wanted to stand for doing the right thing. I think he understood what I said, but didn't want to acknowledge it.

I concluded with, "Look, if it was only Rita and I; I would have done what you propose a long time ago, but even though her children aren't mine they needed a father figure in their life. I know I am taking a lot of hits with this, but I would rather do that then show them when it comes to love, you have no responsibilities. It's the message to send and way to be.

He took an OK; we'll do it your way approach and created the separation agreement. The other thing I learned was, while Maryland was a no fault divorce state, it was still a physical separation in different abodes; so the time Rita and I were separated in the house didn't count towards the separation requirements. The lawyer could only recall one time where it was part of a ruling.

While the upstairs was an independent apartment, he felt the biggest reason the current, in-house separation didn't count was the down stairs was accessed and used by everybody and the opportunity existed to be more husband and wife then would be acceptable to the courts. But adultery isn't counted?

I found it ridiculous I needed lectures on why I shouldn't date during the separation. Basically, Rita could live life as she wanted, but if I become involved in any relationship, it would now be considered a mutual agreement by the judge who may not grant the divorce.

I had to ask what if I found a bar relationship first, and it seemed I wasn't permitted the same courtesy as Rita was, as she could have then gotten a divorce on the grounds of adultery if she pressed it. I was taken aback at the perverseness of the family courts and it almost came across to me, if you are a good, thoughtful and caring person, the family courts will side against you.



Speaking of the devil relating to Baltimore County's family court; Katie had to come home to go to the courts again for the drinking charge and was in the same Master's courtroom as had declared her non-delinquent of attempting to kill me with a knife because I yelled at her. She also had the same public defender, and I was only there along for the ride and to see what will happen.

Charges against Katie for the knife assault on me only took three minutes, and this charge only took thirty seconds. The charges were stated, the public defender moved to dismiss the charges because the law was so arcane, and the Master scrunched up his face and stated, "What is this, the drinking law was created in the mid 1800s and this charge is ridiculous." He then chided the police for charging her with this crime in the first place.

I asked why she wasn't charged with threatening to burn out the homeowner who tried to stop them from going into the woods, and they said they knew the courts would have dismissed them as well. I did credit my chubby little blond bitch for having the fortitude to at least charge them.

The only benefit for Katie in going to court was there was a person she knew who was also charged for threatening a neighbor and stealing from his car, she was brought in from the Waxter center.

In my eyes she was only a notch up from the way Katie had been, and was given increased time at Waxter as well she had to personally pay the neighbor the damage she had done. Still it was a coincidence the police made it there so fast and I believe it was another call from the neighbor about her. Before it got to this point, it was at least a dozen prior crimes against the neighbor that was allowed to slip by.

Katie was a bit upset at the ruling, but at least she saw that juveniles could only do what they want for a while and there were limits to what even the courts would tolerate. I was happy Katie was on a different path, was living the independent life she wanted, yet learning a lot of life's skills. With her being at Job Corp, they would have her voluntarily holding her own feet to the fire, which was what I wanted her to do in the first place.



With separation agreement in hand, I gave Rita a copy and she had her lawyer look at it. I made sure to keep it simple as I didn't want any reasons for the lawyers to bat it around. It had the cash agreement, separation terms, as well what she wanted to take from the house such as the upstairs bedroom furniture and kitchen set. It also had what I insisted on being protected for myself. Last, she was signing away any future rights to claims alimony, the house (which she couldn't lay claim to) and my social security, but we weren't married long enough anyway.

Rita brought it back, with changes her lawyer recommended; mostly minor but I believe they wanted to remove the clause regarding future claims. My lawyer rewrote it, but we remained firm that this is it, because my upfront generosity; there will be no rights to future claims.

The big problem was while the Boss Man expedited everything, the profit sharing administrator had one problem or another and it seemed there were tons of delays. This was a headache for the Boss Man as well I. With the end in sight, Rita wanted the money and was pressuring me every step of the way, though it was out of my hands. That only created more resentment and incited further anger.

This also opened the door for her to say, "You know, I am still not happy with the amount of money I am getting and what happens if I don't sign the separation agreement because I want more?"

"That's an easy one! Rita, everyone thinks I am stupid and crazy for doing this separation agreement and the only reason I am doing it this way is because of Jimmy. People have been giving me all kinds of suggestions to make you flee the house, but I am not doing them because I still believe I need to be a father to Katie and Jimmy."

"If you don't sign this agreement, it's simple. I will rip it up, take everything off the table and make everyone's life around here a living hell. Personally if I were you, I'd sign it and take what I could get. Also, I don't think it is a good idea to piss of the spirits in this house either."

It was finally revealed why the profit sharing was so obstinate about giving me my money, it was such a large amount they didn't want to part with it. Now there were inklings that pension plans everywhere were being ravaged by people who were using the monies to survive off of.

Medical bills, an imminent default on your mortgage and the like were hardship reasons, but the divorce settlement was so substantial they didn't just didn't want to part with the money. I made the case that not getting the monies for the separation was far more a hardship than losing the monies in my account.

I made it plainly clear that if this money is denied me, it will end up in court either to make the case for a hardship; or since Rita and myself were no longer wrapped too tight, if something happens from either of us, such as a crime against the other, I will sue them from a liability standpoint and get damages as well.

Last, I made it clear that I will get the profit sharing money even if I have to quit my job to get the entire retirement account, pay the taxes and live off the remainder for a while. I also mentioned to the Boss man, I could definitely find a job that pays what I make here because of not receiving a raise in so long, the salaries are less dispirit.

What was really putting undue pressure on me was Rita was apartment hunting, found one in the area and by Jimmy's high school he would be attending. She got the woman to hold it for her and from having other people look at it until Rita she got the money from me. I ended up talking to the woman to keep her updated. Every day was a thankless one, with much apprehension as I was being a nice guy and it seemed most resented it or saw it as a weakness.



It was nearing Christmas and the news was positive about the hardship payment from the profit sharing plan, the payment should be due soon. I visited my mom, but the highlight was visiting Miss Usha's. By now I was no longer making Indian food, but they occasionally presented me with a treat and I always enjoyed the teas.

On the walk home, I was in the mood and bought a ham to cook and some Christmas food. Sort of a futile exercise, but I couldn't think of a better treat. Since this was from my walk home from Towson, it added about thirty pounds to the three miles remaining.

I had just gotten up to my house and the neighbor that was renting Miss Isabel's upstairs was out and yelled, "I'm going to poison that fucking dog of yours soon!"

I had the, it figures attitude and saw humor in this, "Well, I was just going to say, 'Merry Christmas,' but since you put things that way... I have to say, 'Don't piss me off!" It just added to the feeling that most other people don't seem to be celebrating the Christmas spirit.

All I knew was the settlement check would be there sometimes around the New Year. The New Year was actually heralded in with red and blue lights dancing around my living room walls and I couldn't help but think, "Wait a minute, Katie isn't here."

I stepped outside and found out that Miss Isabel's border was being arrested because she, "borrowed," one of her friend's car and about five of her credit cards. Seeing police on this the way they were indicated to me she was considered a serious problem and most neighbors now kept a big eye out for Miss Isabel. In reference to me, the renter developed a cooler headed attitude with me, as I was waiting for that war to break out.

During the holidays I felt that Robin would be home taking a break from the FBI training. The regret of the last day she was at work with me was so overwhelming, I still simply wanted to say thanks and wish her the best. I purchased a simple thank you card and stated the above, and caught the Boss Man at the wrapping table and asked that he give it to her.

I expressed my appreciation for the small time that she worked there, and he seemed to bristle. Last I put out the card and asked him to give it to her, even showing that I left it open for inspection. He declined saying, "No Mike, I don't get into things like this. Just forget about it."

Still, with virtually no money, like my high school ring, I bought a cheap Teddy Bear in the possible hopes that she thought enough about me to stop by and say hi. I simply kept it with my belongings which still resided in the now defunct and open darkroom; I know it didn't escape notice. After the holidays, I was thinking about giving it to some child as a gift, but was so soured I threw it and buried it in the dumpster.



Just after the New Year the check arrived and it was like holding on to razor blades. I immediately put it in the bank and only a few dollars from the check was available, with a few thousand after five days and the rest was to be held the maximum allowable time.

Needless to say, Rita wanted it all now, but being out of my hands there wasn't anything that I could do. I basically wanted to hand her, the whole check and say, "Adios;" but instead, I handed her what was partially available and made her sign the agreement. Since it was a notarized document, I put the partial payment on there and now the agreement was also used it as a receipt system.

Not long after that, she secured the apartment and I ended up having to help her move out of the house; it figured, but I considered it a labor of love ... and for peace. I was so tired of it all, I basically let them take anything they wanted, but ended up having to fight for items I wanted to remain with me which wasn't on the agreement.

She had so much stuff; she filled her apartment and storage area and had to leave bags of clothes and shoes behind. I couldn't believe it, but now I had a better sense of where all of her money went to. Everybody's advice was to change the locks to the house and I was planning to do that anyway.

A couple weeks later, Jimmy wanted to spend the night at my house on a weekend, and Katie wanted to take a break from Job Corp and do the same. Then suddenly Jimmy decided to spend the weekend with a friend, I also informed Katie and Rita that Katie won't be permitted to come over now. The reasoning was simple, I was a man and I didn't want to have Katie there alone with me, just a discipline developed within me from Scouts.

That Friday, I worked my butt off to close the shop and get out of there; bought two six packs for the weekend, and trudged on home. I was greeted at the house with an Ambulance and two police cars, and hoped like anything that Miss Isabel was OK, yet I had a bad feeling.

I started walking up the driveway, but because of the bad feeling I started walking down to the police car. The car window went down and my Chubby Little Blond Bitch said, "Yep, where here for your house."

"Considering that I was at work all day, can you tell me why?"

"Well, apparently Katie was here with her friend and her friend had a little too much to drink and had problems breathing. Katie dragged her outside and called, '911.'"

"Rita and I are now separated and Katie was told not to come. Do you know if it was my alcohol or something she brought in?"

I was shocked when she replied, "No, Katie wouldn't permit us to enter."

I couldn't believe that Katie could stop the police at the door like that, no wonder why we have so many problems. "I can't believe this, if I was a police officer under the circumstances, I would consider someone almost died from drinking would be a good probable cause. I tell you what; I will let you know what happened."

I only had top shelf Scotches, but went to Katie's old room and found a bottle of MD 20/20 with only a fifth remaining and 1/3 a remaining bottle of E & J Brandy. Katie called the house and I found out her friend did most of the drinking, and that her mother was there. The girl was alright, but they pumped out her stomach and gave her an antidote.

I told Katie she was no longer allowed to come to the house and stay for any reason. The next day, I made sure all of the locks were changed to the house. I did have Jimmy come over from time to time, and Rita and Katie occasionally came over to the house to pick up the remaining possessions they wanted, but otherwise I could no longer talk to Rita; I just couldn't tolerate it anymore.



Everyday there was peace in the household produced a revelation of thankful prayer from me. I figured I would be lonely, but there were still Oliver the beagle, Morris the orange tabby and Musket the medium American shorthair when he decided to be around for a minute.

I was working just as hard on the split-shift, but I was getting a lot more sleep; just an extra hour twice a day, but boy how it helped out. It was nice coming home from work, drinking a couple of beers and listening to a bit of music. No yelling, no arguing or nasty comments to be exchanged.

Robin was on my mind, mostly the regret of it all and I still wanted to pay her some tribute for her little role in my life which produced such big thoughts in me. I talked to my friend Dave about contacting the FBI to get an address, but he convinced me, because she was in training it wasn't a good idea.

He put it bluntly, "Mike, you don't know what she thinks of you, but if you do something like that and the FBI doesn't like it, it may be enough to wash her out of training. One thing is for such, if that happens, she will hate you guts."

I decided to write a poem for her, but just for my head. Little did I know that it would be like trying to figure out the Theory of Relativity. Both, "Underneath... The Explorer" and, "A Father's Poem for His Daughter," took mere hours to think about and pen. I was well on my way to a hundred lines of thoughts and no form, it wasn't from a mind block, but from my mind being overwhelmed so much with both thought and emotion.

Still each day at work, it was like I was in an empty company. I was eventually informed by a coworker that I will have another shot at the Boss Man's step daughters as his second will be coming to work there. I didn't like the people's sense of humor in the least, or how they apparently thought of me.

The day came and she arrived to work, she was a bit softer then Robin, but not as tall. I had a feeling she knew about my feelings for Robin as I was working on making an ink and she immediately walked by and made one of those Robin-like flirt gestures.

It didn't sit well with me because it was either a test, making fun of me or the extenuation of some sort of game. I handled it by putting my arm in the shelf cups and yelling, "Mother Fucker," and sending the inks flying all over the place. What made my day with Robin was now something which felt like itwas insulting and demeaning. I now feared I was nothing more than a sad joke to Robin as well.

That day, I clocked out and walked by the wrapping table and essentially slammed the door so hard a boss who was also in the wrapping area came out and yelled at me. He wanted to know what I was mad about, but being something so picayune and stupid, I mounted my high horse and in high drama and big smile said, told "It is so bad; you don't want to go there and bring out the anger of God!" I busted out laughing and told him I just needed to get out of the shop.

The next day I said goodbye to the new step daughter and simply said, "Look, I really liked Robin and didn't flirt before her and have no plans to flirt again. "

She said that she knew, and I wanted to know what Robin told her, but then the Boss Man saw me talking, completely flipped out and told me to go home. While I didn't have any desire for Robin's sister, it was obvious it would be the same old game with dealing with the Boss Man.

I enjoyed talking with her too, found out that Robin was still in training and I also shared with her where I was in writing the book. I also expressed my embarrassment over the whole deal, but Boss Man cometh and I leaveth. She also knew that I had no desire to pass the work on to her, except if Robin wanted to still read it.

That Friday, I was standing in line at the bank when the Boss Man came in and also joined it. He then placed a call on his cell phone and started talking with a contractor about putting bars on some of the windows at his house.

--I couldn't help but wonder, Jesus Christ is this for my benefit? Does he think I am that depraved? Is there another problem occurring with his household? My mental Ouija pointer was headed towards the last question, but I knew not to ask, as he would tell me to mind my own business anyway, or perhaps allude to my public embarrassment of my possible guilty conscience. I just didn't want to give him any more satisfaction at my expense.



Mom was for whatever reason, on my mind now as well and it always seemed to me, when she did finally pass; I would just get a call she died and make the arrangements with the funeral home for her burial. My regret was she was always too violent to talk with, so I pretty much figure anything I wanted to say to her would never be said.

One day Rita left a message on my answering machine, "Mike, you better go to your Mom's nursing home and find out what is going on, they are abusing her so bad I think they will kill her!" This wasn't the first time Rita said something like this and it usually turned out to be nothing.

A couple of days later, Rita screamed on the phone, "Mike, I know you don't care if your mother dies, but they are trying to kill her. They moved her and took away her bed and she looks like a lamb who is going to be slaughtered! Get your ass up there before they kill her!"

I was planning to go a couple of days later on the weekend, but I got a call from a nurse who was having a panic attack over the DNR (Do Not Resuscitate); she wanted to know if I was serious about that, "You're mom is gravely ill and I don't want to deny her anything that will save her life."

I immediately called my sister and we went up there, and were somewhat shocked to see her in a room by the nurse's station with the mattress on the floor surrounded with barriers. It did have that innocent sheep pen look. The blueness of Mom's lips, the sluggishness and her darkening hands and feet were all symptoms to us that she was in the process of heart failure.

The nurse wanted us to be sure we knew what was going down, but both my sister and myself felt an intervention would not be an improving justice upon my mother and the DNR was to remain in full force.

I then called the doctor and he gave me everything in medical terms, including, "She's dying and with the state that she's in, it is best to let her die." Hate to say it, I concurred as my sister did also.

Cindy and I, were on different schedules so there were a couple of times, I visited Mom with her and other times I didn't. Usually when I visited alone, I grabbed a cab after the morning shift and walked home from there to catch a nap for work. Whether alone or together, it worked out well for us as we could talk as brother and sister, and also have the personal time to say things privately.

One thing was for sure; my sister didn't want to deal with anything Rita had to say, so she immediately had Rita forbidden to visit with her, or be provided with information on her condition. Personally, I didn't have such feelings against Rita, but I understood the reasoning behind Cindy's insistence.

I notified Rita about what was happening with Mom and the fact she was no longer welcomed to visit and got not only her wrath, but a lot of personal comments that I didn't appreciate. Despite I didn't really side with Cindy's request, I was now grateful I decided to go along with it. Rita's arguing with me about Mom and her circumstances would be the one thing that would lead to blows being struck, not to mention I didn't need any more emotional additions into my life.

The one nurse once again called me and asked if I wanted her to call 911 and have Mom transferred to a hospital and I spoke plainly, "Mom has a DNR on her, our family is supportive of it and we are resigned over what is happening. If Mom is transported to the hospital for any reason, we will sue you the facility for malpractice. I really don't think you want to be held responsible for that."

I also called the nursing homes social worker and mentioned what happened, as well the office. The rest of the support staff was understanding and supportive and I wasn't mad at the nurse because I know how hard it was for someone wanting to heal to have to turn their head.

Personally I was happy it was her heart which was failing as I was prepared to enforce the DNR for something much less, such as an infection or what a minor operation could fix. The dividing line for me was whether or not she was hit with something which stood a chance of taking her life and ultimately eliminating her day in and out suffering; or something that would be temporary, with treatment that would ease any particular suffering.

At least this was cut and dry, and we took advantage of the wonderfully provided opportunity to square up our feelings with Mom, as well give her the last love that we can. It was a blessing both Cindy and I were on the same page. One time, we were getting ready to leave I said, "Well Mom, you're suffering will soon be over... You won't have to look at my ugly mug for much longer." I got my face out of the way just in time as her fist shot past it.

I can sum what I had said with this paraphrased paragraph, "Mom, I am so sorry that you had to suffer here and know shortly before you did, you asked that I help you not suffer. Believe me, with what I saw happening to you, I would have gladly spent the rest of my life in jail; but I think the almighty had another desire for you."

"The problem is, that wasn't the way it was to work out and I suffered a lot of guilt for breaking the promise. Look, I know some part of you is still trapped in there and you haven't had a decent day in eighteen years, at times I wonder if you are angry because you feel guilty about things as well."

"I know you will be passing away to a better place soon and thank you for this opportunity to say, 'Thanks for being in my life.' I know I came far short of being there and loving you the way you loved us, but I still tried my best."

"When you pass, I want you to know how much I love you and appreciated you in my life and regardless of all of the bad, I was happy to be there for you even if my love fell short. Please feel that you can pass on without guilt and knowing that no matter what, we love you. Yet, don't look back and embrace the new life that will be yours. You deserve it."



I didn't think that she would live the night through, but when I called the nursing home the next morning, the nurse was questionably upbeat. "Mr. Kohlman, your mother is still hanging in there and is even looking better. Maybe she will get well."

I said simply, "Ok, I'll check back." I had experienced this miracle talk before and it always just occurred before the person died. It is like the dying person's energy within the body is having one last hurrah. I don't think the nurse was lying about her observations, but was either not that experienced with a dying person or disillusioned.

Not fifteen minutes later, I started hearing a song loudly playing in my head; Rockin' Dopsie's, "Old Time Zydeco." It is a song that has an accordion, drums and heavy scrub board and is New Orleans twist to a band era swing tune. Sung in Cajun, the lyrics sound like, "Bye, Bye Mamaw. Bye, Bye, Mamaw." With a high pitched, "Bye, Bye, Mamaw-aw. Bye, bye Mamaw". Kep a letta de notcha, ya leeba die ya."

I had a chill run through my body and the thought, Oh shit, Mom's just died. It wasn't a feeling of dread, but the Cajun tune had that jazz sense of elation and I actually started to sing it, but as, "Bye, bye, Mamaw. Bye, Bye, Mamaw. Bye By-ee Mamaw-aw. Bye, bye, Mawaw. Keep with me the little notion, better to die young."

Fifteen minutes after that, I got a call from Cindy who asked me if I knew why she called. "Mom's dead," was my reply. While I didn't want to lose my mother, her suffering was so great for eighteen years, it was a blessing to know it was at least over.

"Yes." Cindy informed me that the funeral home was called and on the way to pick up her body. Knowing this for a week, allowed us to go over the arrangements, which was basically paying the money for their out of pocket expenses and how we wanted the obituary stated. Cindy covered the expense of Mom's clothing which was an informal pants suit like she used to prefer to wear. Luckily for me, it used the last of Mom's SSI money, so I closed out the account.

I decided to inform Rita, who said that she somehow knew and asked me if we had a problem with a nurse, as she saw the doctor kicking her out of the room, and chastising her away by telling her that she is dying and going to be allowed to do so. There were times that Rita was uncanny with things like this, but also wondered if she snuck in a visit or talked with a nurse.

It also fell on me to inform her that she is not welcome to the viewing or funeral. That led to another fight, and strengthened my belief, this was necessary. Cindy point blank told me she couldn't tolerate Rita being there, and was afraid that if she was, a drama would unfold that would result in some much deserved violence.

The viewing surprised me as I didn't expect to see so many people, especially my coworkers and bosses. The Boss Man was so insensitive with what he said, just made me want to belt him, yet for whatever reason, I knew he couldn't deal with death in any diplomatically respectful way.

What surprised me was the number of coworkers, their family members and friends who didn't know my mother. This was the first time that it dawned on me you also go to viewings and funerals to lend your support for those you know.

Of course, why should Mom's death be any less of a problem then in her life? The funeral director took my sister and I to his office to inform us of a problem. The doctor was refusing to sign a death certificate and they can't bury my mother until they have one.

Apparently his office told the funeral staff where he would be, and to pick the death certificate there, but he had already left. It was the same for the next location, so the doctor told them that he isn't filling one out and not to bother him anymore.

The doctor was left with a nice message; "Dear Dr. [ ], this is Michael Kohlman and since my mother is still officially alive, I am still her guardian. If you don't prepare and sign the death certificate, the funeral home will have to charge me for the storage of my unofficially dead mom."

"Instead of spending the last of her money on that, I will pay for the transportation to drive her coffin to your house and will continue the viewing from your front porch."

I also notified the office staff about the problem with the doc and they couldn't understand what the problem was as, "He knows that all of our facilities have blank death certificates on hand and he could have just filled one out and left it there with us to give to the funeral home." I also informed the nursing home of my plans to drop Mom off at the Doc's house. It got a laugh, but also an, "Oh, God!"

Needless to say, Mom was declared officially dead the next day and with the paperwork in the funeral directors hand, Mom's burial was back on schedule. Of course a weekend funeral is double time pay. I was less emotional about Mom's death then my father's because I felt that justice and peace was finally served. Not only her, but we all could rest more peacefully.



Robin's sister didn't visit at the funeral home, but offered her condolences at the wrapping table. We talked a little about her until the Boss Man came over. From time to time I would be told a snippet about Robin and her training, something I really appreciated and it allowed me to admire her at least from afar.

I used the extra profit sharing money in working towards a recording studio, which I could use to create productions for my own head. While I didn't have a specific idea of how to go, I figured sound recording would play a role. I also picked up a small digital, point and shoot camera and had to learn how to use it and refigure the photography aspect. I was awestruck by the technology.

I did pick up a couple of things that were an indulgence; namely a Cajun accordion. I just loved the sound and was hoping to pick up on playing it, which would be a great way to occupy my time. Being handmade, it cost about $1,500 dollars. I also picked up a Cajun scrub board, triangle, of course spoons and some how-too, videos.

I had also gone to the accountant and had the amount of taxes to pay on the profit sharing withdraw figured out. Personally I wanted to immediately send the monies to the tax agencies, but my accountant talked me into waiting until the end of the year, so I earmarked the money.

With everything planned out and with the total peace in the now empty household; life was grand and I enjoyed trying to figure out what to do next. With Robin or not, I decided after a break to take another stab at writing, "Joy! Just a Few Moments in One's Life." Well, rewriting it, taking the time necessary to write it right, without the sleep deprived misspellings, dyslexia and run on paragraphs.

Not being effective at writing a Robin-based poem, I sort of put the notion out of my mind. I was leaving work one morning in June, and was talking about this to Robin's sister, when the Boss Man came running over, paced back and forth, and with hands pumping, feet stomping and saying, "Babble, babble, babble, babble, babble..."

I looked at him questionably, and attempted to continue to talk to Robin's sister. He just became more forceful and started yelling a little louder, "Babble, babble, babble, babble..."

I walked out and as soon as shut the door, I said aloud, "OK you fucking bastard, I know you think what I have to say is babble, so let's find out if the rest of the world considers my words babble!"