Aftermath
About a month ago, I boarded a Mexicana Air flight from Chicago non-stop to Cancun with the remains of my mother in storage next to a tourist's luggage. I was bound by her wishes to find the grave of the grandfather I never met in a place I visited only once in my lifetime. My mother had put me through many difficult times in my life - this was the supreme test.
It took me several days to find the spot we think was where my grandfather was buried. Seems a cemetery in that part of Mexico isn't actually sacred ground. Especially when your cattle need the land to graze and shit on for the local farmers. Or if a factory sweatshop is needed that makes cheap key chains marked "Cancun" for about .15 pesos that they sell to tourist traps with the markup of 8 pesos.
The s**ttering of ashes is a sobering experience. To hold in your hands the crumbs that used to be the person that gave you the gift of life humbles you immensely. I stood alone in the back country of Mexico and said goodbye to the person who was everything to me - a friend, an adviser, the only parent I ever knew. A flick of the wrist, the dust circled into the air and s**ttered to the wind, and the uncontrollable tears that sank me to my knees.
The local guide to whom I was paying a princely sum to locate this spot sat quietly in the car. He gave me my privacy and never once offered to help me in any way before this moment. After about 20 minutes, he walked over to my side and simply offered his hand to help me up.
The hand looked worn and old but it calmed me in a way. That hand that I never saw before was speaking to me - it was saying "You've done enough". I took his hand, shook it, and we drove back to the hotel.
During this difficult period, Canadian Club was my d**g of choice. I emptied four bottles of the stuff into me to temporarily numb the pain. For two days, I was comatose drunk and laid in my hotel bed when I wasn't keeled over the toilet with dry heaves and vomit. The sadness, loneliness, and pain was tempered with every slug from the bottle.
I awoke from my stupor and realized I missed not only my mother but home. My plane ride home wasn't for another three days. The rest of my time in Cancun was spent sobering up on my balcony, by the pool, and an experience that sounds good in theory - a visit to the local cathouse.
To enter, you paid $50 - cover charge. To enter the room to see the girls you MIGHT get lucky with, another $50. I was already out $100 and was probably going to be expected to fork over another $200 for actual physical contact. I spent my time talking to several of the girls and shocked the ringmasters by thanking them and beginning to leave.
Cathouse custom is physically blocking you from leaving and demand that the prices are negotiable - aren't they always? The guy did everything within his preaching ability to compromise with me, the girls were willing to flirt with me again, and the bouncer stood his ground at the door. Taking a cue from the bouncer, I remained silent, shook my head no, and avoided eye contact with everyone. Had I gotten indignant, screamed, or tried to force my way out, they would have beat the shit out of me and taken my money - another quaint local custom. Nearly an hour later (scary, huh?), they gave up and let me leave without paying anything else.
I headed back to the hotel and spent time speaking to two lonely female American tourists. After the cathouse, I wasn't looking to get laid anymore - I just wanted someone to talk to. They were sympathetic and listened to my ramblings. They were exactly what I needed. Thank you Julie and Karen, wherever you are.
It was time to head home. On board the flight, I was impressed with the service on the flight, no lost luggage, and some pretty cute stewardesses. We flew into Miami for a layover and actually ran into the flight crew eating at a food court restaurant. I thanked them for sterling service and told them I would book passage with them again in the near future.
"We hope so - ask us again next week..." a pilot said. An odd thing to say.
A few hours later, it was wheels up again and I returned to Fort Wayne. Looking over my mother's will, I realized I would be inheriting her home and all of her assets (some of which I needed to discuss with her lawyer's office). I had a auctioneer come in to see if the contents of the home (furniture, clothes, appliances, etc) could be auctioned off - his opinion was the flat-screen plasma TV I had given to my mother two years prior was the only thing of value among her possessions.
So I called the Salvation Army, Goodwill, and Amvets to come empty out the house while I returned to Missouri to close out my life there.
Missouri was a mixed blessing - the job was a treadmill and wasn't getting any better. My apartment complex was quiet most of the time and I met some cool people there as neighbors. The nightlife was dull, the weekends okay. The cost of living was amazingly low. Three out of four radio stations played country music - thank God for my Sirius radio player.
In the end, I was going to miss many of the friends I had made in my two years down there. Several stand up guys, some great co-workers, and many women who lived up to the standards of the "Show Me" State - in more ways than one.
Two women in particular - one was a ex-GF whom I dated for nearly a year. The sex was great, many of times we spent together were memorable. The relationship ran its course but we remained and will remain great friends.
The other woman was a fuck buddy that blossomed earlier this year. She wasn't the prettiest or shapeliest woman I've ever known but she possesses - without a doubt - the best oral skills of any woman I've ever known. A goddess with the tongue, teeth, and throat - she made me cum harder and longer with every suck and blow. Blow jobs of her variety usually command $250 - $500 dollars in Vegas - she could easily double those prices if she chose to do that. Her abilities are so rare that I will be sending her plane tickets whenever her schedule permits to fly here.
With Missouri in my rear-view mirror, it was time to visit my mom's lawyer and the reading of the will. It came as no surprise that I got her home and assets - a few signatures and it was all legal. The first surprise cold-cocked me square on the chin and left me reeling: my mother had two life insurance policies that I never knew about and as the lone beneficiaries, I was in line for a six-figure payment to my bank account.
As I was preparing to sign the paperwork for this, the words I was expecting to hear from the lawyer were spoken "There's one another thing..."
When I left for college, my mother decided to purchase a home from a family she knew that was moving out of the area. She went in and renovated the home and knew of several needy families that benefited from her decision to buy the property. For many years, four or five families fresh off the Greyhound bus from Mexico found a home there as my mother selflessly helped them acclimate themselves to the new area. Three years ago, she purchased another home for the exact same purpose in the worst part of the town and helped another family into the city.
I was now a landlord.
The first family in the older established rental property had kept sending in the rent checks throughout my mother's hospitalization. A quick look at the map told me the neighborhood was stable and the house was in good shape. The family had done a good job with the upkeep and even had sent a flower arrangement when they learned upon the death of my mother.
On the other side of the coin, the second family stopped sending in checks almost six months prior and were now squatters. The police were called to the home twice in the past year, the house was in bad disrepair, and the neighborhood was safe during the day, at night questionable.
As I listened to my options from the lawyer about divesting myself from this situation, a thought was racing through my mind. My mother, even in death, was teaching me what she had taught me in life. To turn my back on these people who benefited from my mother's kindness and energies would be slamming the door shut on her legacy. For a moment, she was speaking to me again.
I began by hiring the law firm to help me with the dealing I was now about to do - more paperwork. I wanted to work closely with a lawyer that spoke Spanish who would deal with the families on a regular basis (my Spanish is virtually non-existent). The firm didn't have a lawyer with those capabilities so in a Donald Trump-type of moment, I said "Hire one."
The first family was to be rewarded for their loyalty. I wanted the firm to offer them an option to buy the house, either outright or rent-to-own. A realtor was consulted to determine the amount and we're currently negotiating with them.
The second family has some catching up to do with the rent - so I came up with an idea for them to pay it off. In exchange for receipts for paint, lumber, etc., they are fixing up the home and whittling down the amounts they own. The house is in fair shape now and I think it will be a long winter with them.
One bright spot to all of this: the lawyer the firm hired to help me is bright, steadfast, and able to speak Spanish with great ease. We've met several times and we have a great rapport. Things are moving smoothly.
And SHE is cute as hell, incredibly feisty, and I really, REALLY want to see her briefs... oh man, is this going to be a longgggggg winter.
Two weeks ago, I applied for a job with a company in Chicago. Within 48 hours, I had received a phone call from them and given an on-the-spot telephone interview. I interview in person with them on Sept. 21. If all goes well, I'll have a job with them that hopefully will start around October 1st that will have me traveling around the country helping their employees retrain. The frequent flier miles will begin to pile up.
The last great silver lining to my mother's passing is many of my friends, past and present, stepped up with their good thoughts, kindnesses, and support through this whole ordeal.
This includes a great deal of people here at xHamster. Several special friends were right there for me and it meant the world that they were. I appreciate all of you, past and present, for your sympathy and support.
Maybe with this new job I can visit some of you. Here's hoping...
Thanks for reading this far. Peace.
P.S. A week after my return flight home, Mexicana Air suspended all of its flights as it went into bankruptcy. I'm convinced my mother kept it going until I was safely back home.
Miss you mom...
It took me several days to find the spot we think was where my grandfather was buried. Seems a cemetery in that part of Mexico isn't actually sacred ground. Especially when your cattle need the land to graze and shit on for the local farmers. Or if a factory sweatshop is needed that makes cheap key chains marked "Cancun" for about .15 pesos that they sell to tourist traps with the markup of 8 pesos.
The s**ttering of ashes is a sobering experience. To hold in your hands the crumbs that used to be the person that gave you the gift of life humbles you immensely. I stood alone in the back country of Mexico and said goodbye to the person who was everything to me - a friend, an adviser, the only parent I ever knew. A flick of the wrist, the dust circled into the air and s**ttered to the wind, and the uncontrollable tears that sank me to my knees.
The local guide to whom I was paying a princely sum to locate this spot sat quietly in the car. He gave me my privacy and never once offered to help me in any way before this moment. After about 20 minutes, he walked over to my side and simply offered his hand to help me up.
The hand looked worn and old but it calmed me in a way. That hand that I never saw before was speaking to me - it was saying "You've done enough". I took his hand, shook it, and we drove back to the hotel.
During this difficult period, Canadian Club was my d**g of choice. I emptied four bottles of the stuff into me to temporarily numb the pain. For two days, I was comatose drunk and laid in my hotel bed when I wasn't keeled over the toilet with dry heaves and vomit. The sadness, loneliness, and pain was tempered with every slug from the bottle.
I awoke from my stupor and realized I missed not only my mother but home. My plane ride home wasn't for another three days. The rest of my time in Cancun was spent sobering up on my balcony, by the pool, and an experience that sounds good in theory - a visit to the local cathouse.
To enter, you paid $50 - cover charge. To enter the room to see the girls you MIGHT get lucky with, another $50. I was already out $100 and was probably going to be expected to fork over another $200 for actual physical contact. I spent my time talking to several of the girls and shocked the ringmasters by thanking them and beginning to leave.
Cathouse custom is physically blocking you from leaving and demand that the prices are negotiable - aren't they always? The guy did everything within his preaching ability to compromise with me, the girls were willing to flirt with me again, and the bouncer stood his ground at the door. Taking a cue from the bouncer, I remained silent, shook my head no, and avoided eye contact with everyone. Had I gotten indignant, screamed, or tried to force my way out, they would have beat the shit out of me and taken my money - another quaint local custom. Nearly an hour later (scary, huh?), they gave up and let me leave without paying anything else.
I headed back to the hotel and spent time speaking to two lonely female American tourists. After the cathouse, I wasn't looking to get laid anymore - I just wanted someone to talk to. They were sympathetic and listened to my ramblings. They were exactly what I needed. Thank you Julie and Karen, wherever you are.
It was time to head home. On board the flight, I was impressed with the service on the flight, no lost luggage, and some pretty cute stewardesses. We flew into Miami for a layover and actually ran into the flight crew eating at a food court restaurant. I thanked them for sterling service and told them I would book passage with them again in the near future.
"We hope so - ask us again next week..." a pilot said. An odd thing to say.
A few hours later, it was wheels up again and I returned to Fort Wayne. Looking over my mother's will, I realized I would be inheriting her home and all of her assets (some of which I needed to discuss with her lawyer's office). I had a auctioneer come in to see if the contents of the home (furniture, clothes, appliances, etc) could be auctioned off - his opinion was the flat-screen plasma TV I had given to my mother two years prior was the only thing of value among her possessions.
So I called the Salvation Army, Goodwill, and Amvets to come empty out the house while I returned to Missouri to close out my life there.
Missouri was a mixed blessing - the job was a treadmill and wasn't getting any better. My apartment complex was quiet most of the time and I met some cool people there as neighbors. The nightlife was dull, the weekends okay. The cost of living was amazingly low. Three out of four radio stations played country music - thank God for my Sirius radio player.
In the end, I was going to miss many of the friends I had made in my two years down there. Several stand up guys, some great co-workers, and many women who lived up to the standards of the "Show Me" State - in more ways than one.
Two women in particular - one was a ex-GF whom I dated for nearly a year. The sex was great, many of times we spent together were memorable. The relationship ran its course but we remained and will remain great friends.
The other woman was a fuck buddy that blossomed earlier this year. She wasn't the prettiest or shapeliest woman I've ever known but she possesses - without a doubt - the best oral skills of any woman I've ever known. A goddess with the tongue, teeth, and throat - she made me cum harder and longer with every suck and blow. Blow jobs of her variety usually command $250 - $500 dollars in Vegas - she could easily double those prices if she chose to do that. Her abilities are so rare that I will be sending her plane tickets whenever her schedule permits to fly here.
With Missouri in my rear-view mirror, it was time to visit my mom's lawyer and the reading of the will. It came as no surprise that I got her home and assets - a few signatures and it was all legal. The first surprise cold-cocked me square on the chin and left me reeling: my mother had two life insurance policies that I never knew about and as the lone beneficiaries, I was in line for a six-figure payment to my bank account.
As I was preparing to sign the paperwork for this, the words I was expecting to hear from the lawyer were spoken "There's one another thing..."
When I left for college, my mother decided to purchase a home from a family she knew that was moving out of the area. She went in and renovated the home and knew of several needy families that benefited from her decision to buy the property. For many years, four or five families fresh off the Greyhound bus from Mexico found a home there as my mother selflessly helped them acclimate themselves to the new area. Three years ago, she purchased another home for the exact same purpose in the worst part of the town and helped another family into the city.
I was now a landlord.
The first family in the older established rental property had kept sending in the rent checks throughout my mother's hospitalization. A quick look at the map told me the neighborhood was stable and the house was in good shape. The family had done a good job with the upkeep and even had sent a flower arrangement when they learned upon the death of my mother.
On the other side of the coin, the second family stopped sending in checks almost six months prior and were now squatters. The police were called to the home twice in the past year, the house was in bad disrepair, and the neighborhood was safe during the day, at night questionable.
As I listened to my options from the lawyer about divesting myself from this situation, a thought was racing through my mind. My mother, even in death, was teaching me what she had taught me in life. To turn my back on these people who benefited from my mother's kindness and energies would be slamming the door shut on her legacy. For a moment, she was speaking to me again.
I began by hiring the law firm to help me with the dealing I was now about to do - more paperwork. I wanted to work closely with a lawyer that spoke Spanish who would deal with the families on a regular basis (my Spanish is virtually non-existent). The firm didn't have a lawyer with those capabilities so in a Donald Trump-type of moment, I said "Hire one."
The first family was to be rewarded for their loyalty. I wanted the firm to offer them an option to buy the house, either outright or rent-to-own. A realtor was consulted to determine the amount and we're currently negotiating with them.
The second family has some catching up to do with the rent - so I came up with an idea for them to pay it off. In exchange for receipts for paint, lumber, etc., they are fixing up the home and whittling down the amounts they own. The house is in fair shape now and I think it will be a long winter with them.
One bright spot to all of this: the lawyer the firm hired to help me is bright, steadfast, and able to speak Spanish with great ease. We've met several times and we have a great rapport. Things are moving smoothly.
And SHE is cute as hell, incredibly feisty, and I really, REALLY want to see her briefs... oh man, is this going to be a longgggggg winter.
Two weeks ago, I applied for a job with a company in Chicago. Within 48 hours, I had received a phone call from them and given an on-the-spot telephone interview. I interview in person with them on Sept. 21. If all goes well, I'll have a job with them that hopefully will start around October 1st that will have me traveling around the country helping their employees retrain. The frequent flier miles will begin to pile up.
The last great silver lining to my mother's passing is many of my friends, past and present, stepped up with their good thoughts, kindnesses, and support through this whole ordeal.
This includes a great deal of people here at xHamster. Several special friends were right there for me and it meant the world that they were. I appreciate all of you, past and present, for your sympathy and support.
Maybe with this new job I can visit some of you. Here's hoping...
Thanks for reading this far. Peace.
P.S. A week after my return flight home, Mexicana Air suspended all of its flights as it went into bankruptcy. I'm convinced my mother kept it going until I was safely back home.
Miss you mom...
14 lata/lat temu
Thanks for sharing. I have some catching up to do, it looks like!