Son Of Medicine Man
jimbot58
Dom, it was a museum bird, so it's going to look a bit rough with missing and repaired parts.
I am using the smallest tubing I had on hand, and I am in the process of carefully sanding the outside of it to reduce it's wall thickness. Not sure yet of how the scale will be. I may have to find some smaller stuff.
Ken. Thanks for asking. My best answer is that there are bad days, and then there are worse days. Nights and weekends are toughest. I still can't handle being at her house and don't know if I'm ever going to be able to sort through her things.
Jim
Jim, I know what you mean. I still haven't finished cleaning off the workbench in my Dad's garage after 2 and a half years. Every time I find a receipt with his signature or some small project he was still working on I start to tear up and have to quit.
Ken
Every situation is different; in the case of my mother, I had powers of attorney for health and property. As attorney though, I had no rights to review her will.
I cared for her for her last two years and was by her side when she passed of a massive stroke. It was a 2 and a half our drive one way to visit her, but I missed work, weekends, and even my wife helped out cleaning her home, paying her bills, talking to the bank, installing a new furnace, doing yard work, taking her to the hospital, and buying her groceries. I would make her soup and meals and put them in tupper ware so she could have handy meals during the week.
She left everything to one of my sisters. Everything.
My father's second wife has a heart colder than a witch's nose. I took him to the cancer hospital two dozen times over two years, and those took the whole day. About two weeks before he died, I was tending to him while the ice queen went out shopping. When she returned, I was chatting with my dad, and singing him little songs he taught us when I was a child.
I excused myself to visit the bathroom, and when I got back to his care room she was bent over him saying "...he's not leaving.....he's not leaving...." my dad turned his head on his pillow and saw me, and he was mortified, and she just kept repeating... "......he's not leaving.....how do I tell him to leave....."
He didn't leave me a dime either. Her kids will get everything my dad worked for.
So now ice queen wants me to visit the apartment and pick up a few things, including a big 1/24 Supermarine Spitfire I built for my dad, but I hear you guys, I sure as heck am not going back over there.
I'm counting that Spitfire as an MIA, and everyday she looks at it, she'll think to herself ".....it's not leaving.....it's not leaving....."
Dom