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In May of 2020 a shirttail relative who had been in failing health for a number of years found himself in desperate straits when the woman with whom he resided, and on whom he relied for the business of daily living, up and died on him.
So we (another relative and an old friend and I) scrambled to get him here, to my “new” place, some 1,400 miles or so away. The friend loaded up the relative’s stuff in his truck and drove him and his cat here, where he lived until February of 2021, when his condition deteriorated to the point that he required more care than I could provide.
The relative died in a nursing facility in May of this year. The overwhelming majority of the stuff that arrived in that truck 24 months prior, the overwhelming majority of which didn’t see any use whatsoever over that timespan, has been finding its way to the Arc thrift store donation station.
I suppose that some level of mortality denial, or if not denial than at least the disregard of the death that awaits us all, might be all but necessary to a happy life.
I suspect what motivated that late relative to hold onto his swag was in large part an attempt to hold onto life itself. I understand it. He had suffered much loss — the slow but steady diminishment of his physical and mental capabilities, the death of his woman friend, and more.
It’s not unlike the Tom Hanks character’s attachment to Wilson the volleyball in the film “Castaway.” When a person is left with so little, he invests much in what little he still has.
I still have the cat.
Even though it appears that your relative wasn't married it seems to follow a pattern I've seen with many married couples where if the wife passes first the husband follows shortly after regardless of age or health. It happened with a friend of mine.
When he lost his wife to breast cancer he appeared to be in pretty good health for his age -- he even had plans to fix up his house, sell it and move to a smaller place. But instead he deteriorated rapidly from that time on and himself passed away eighteen months later. I remember at one point I didn't see or hear from him for about a month and then found out that he had been in the hospital for ten days.
Also my own parents died within ten months of each other. Guess who went first.