There was a death in the family this week. The stepdaughters' aunt died suddenly. The Mister and the girls took part in the activities surrounding the funeral. They got to spend some time with the ex.
To say that The Mister and the ex had some trouble playing nice would be an understatement. Thankfully, their conversation was brief and non-threatening. Ex: "Thank you for coming." Mister: "You're welcome." He insists he looked at his feet during this time.
So, if you were expecting fireworks, just move along. The show is over. All three girls sat near mom during the funeral service - The Mister did not join his former family unit.
There were questions from other relatives about why I didn't come - ya know, I don't think a family funeral is the best place for a meet and greet. The Boy and I were just fine with staying home.
I can only assume that the funeral has touched off some conversation about end of life and medical interventions. Here's the conversation The Mister and I had this morning, after we dropped off my craptastic car at the shop for some much needed work.
Leaving the shop (I had arrived there first, in my car), The Mister said to follow him - since I didn't know where he had parked the van for our trip home.
I commented that as long as he didn't want me to follow him "into the light", it was all good.
He said, "My kids would be pissed if I died."
My response? "Pissed? I thought they'd be sad."
Then he added, "If I did it myself, on purpose - they'd be pissed."
So, for whatever reason, he started talking about his end of life wishes. First and foremost?
I asked a serious of questions, eager to define the rules here. "Would you want a heart transplant?"
"How about a pig valve?"
"What about a corneal transplant?"
"Not even to save your eyesight?"
"NO. And no brain transplant, either", he said, smiling.
I considered that for a second...oh, the possibilities. "That's not even possible."
We sat quietly for a moment. Then I asked my final question.