Texas trip: don't say ANYTHING, lost, and found

Minutes after walking into Uncle Marty's house, Dad marched around with a clipboard checking things off his list. Items for our car ride home and some for the moving van the next morning.

Uncle Marty went to bed fairly early. He had a busy day bird watching with his friends and he was exhausted. Their bird outing was part of his farewell. 

cute loveseat, sigh

Backing up the bus:  When we were in the airport, I told Ann that I'd decided not to take the furniture or the sewing machine that I'd initially requested to buy from Uncle Marty. *I told her this the week prior after I heard about the estate sale issue that had arisen but she said, "It's fine." Now I was like, NO REALLY. NOT TAKING ANY OF IT. 

I didn't really need anything. I hoped this would make more sense for the estate sale lady, 'Stella'. Ann had texted in the sibling group chat (remember, our folks don't text) that Uncle Marty had given away/sold many high end items to his friends and neighbors without consulting Stella. 

We could always use more
seating in our family room. Oh well.

Stella had posted items on her website and some things that were now gone had already been promised to people. At the sale, she planned to hire security and a credit card machine. She wondered if she would end up making a profit. 

Ann was beside herself. She'd told Uncle Marty the way the sale worked, but he either forgot, or didn't understand.

I was most excited about
 this. I have a china cabinet
 in my dining room,
but this would've been a
 lovely place to display things
that don't fit in there. 

At the airport, Dad asked Ann what the issue was with Stella. Ann filled him in but prefaced the story with:  DON'T MENTION TO UNCLE MARTY THAT HE MESSED THIS UP. HE ALREADY KNOWS BECAUSE I HAD TO CALL  HIM AND TELL HIM AND EXPLAIN. HE FEELS BAD. DAD, I'M SERIOUS - NOT A WORD. HE REALIZES AND HE CALLED ME TO APOLOGY. DON'T BRING IT UP. 

Dad agreed.  

After dinner at his house, Uncle Marty sat at one end of the parlor. Dad was shuttling back and forth with his clipboard and Ed and I were across the very large parlor packing things and organizing piles to go in the car.

Dad:  HEY, MART . . . WHAT HAPPENED TO THE TWO YELLOW CHAIRS THAT WERE HERE? 

Me:  *snapping my fingers loudly, waving at him from across the room, and finally resorting to whisper SHOUTING his name. TO.NO.AVAIL. 

Marty:  WELL, I SOLD THEM TO A FEW OF MY NURSES. 

Dad:  THEY PAID YOU FOR THEM? HMM. OK.

Ed and I were thrashing around in the background trying to get Dad to KEEP.HIS.PROMISE to not mention the pre-sale-screw-up. Marty didn't really seem to connect those dots and Dad eventually dropped it. Ed is convinced that Dad saw us trying to shut him down. Soon after Uncle Marty went to bed, but not before Dad, aka Mr.-No-Filter asked him where the ashes were for his three deceased family members. Ed and I were transporting the ashes in the car. 

Uncle Marty told us they were in Young Cousin's room. I already knew this and I told Dad as much. "I'll find them - I think they're just in there on Young Cousin's dresser. Leave him alone." 

As Ed says, Dad has the emotional maturity of a 6 year old.

Well, there were two urns. The third one was no where to be found. Dad hollered to Marty as he was getting into bed, HEY - WE ONLY SEE TWO URNS. WHERE'S THE OTHER ONE? 

*And the Mr. Sensitivity Award goes to . . . . anyone in the universe besides Dad.*

Since Uncle Marty's move - his town experienced weird flooding and fish are swimming in the street. His move might've thrown off the equilibrium of Texas. 

Uncle Marty is a gentle soul. He sort of crumbled, I'M WORTHLESS. THIS IS HORRIBLE.

Ed and I were getting Uncle Marty into bed, and I assured him that it was not a problem. I'd just go look a little more. 

Well, there was no urn. Marty had said it was in a white box. I searched everywhere in that room. I opened boxes that I wish I'd never opened, discovered a Christmas stocking with Young Cousin's name embroidered on it. There was a plastic bag with my two cousins' baby pacifiers in it. There were little trophies with Young Cousin's name engraved. A Pinewood derby car. I was sleeping in that room, so I tossed the Pinewood derby car into my overnight bag. My emotions were ramping up. There was no one left to cherish all of the little mementos that this family had saved over the years. This was hard.

The next morning, I was getting a little concerned about Aunt's ashes. We'd looked under beds, in closets. EVERYWHERE. I texted in the sibling chat.

ANY OF YOU RECALL SEEING AUNT PAULINE'S ASHES? WE CAN'T FIND THEM ANYWHERE. UNCLE MARTY THINKS IT'S A WHITE BOX.

Pat said he didn't recall seeing them. 

Marie texted:  I'VE CREATED A NEW GROUP CHAT. PLEASE USE THIS CHAT MOVING FORWARD AS ANN IS AT BETH'S GRADUATION TODAY. 

Me:  HEY MARIE, WELL AWARE OF WHERE ANN IS. WE ARE IN A CRISIS HERE. WE NEED TO FIND AUNT PAULINE. I'M ASKING EVERYONE. 

I recently attended Ed's graduation. I was perfectly capable of looking at my phone while there - particularly if there was a CRISIS and someone's ashes had been misplaced hours before a house was being vacated. I just can't with my sisters anymore.

I texted neighbors. Marie texted nurses. A sweet neighbor showed up and called me over to consult with him. I TOOK MARTY TO COMBINE YOUNG COUSIN'S ASHES RECENTLY. THEY HAD PART OF HIS ASHES AT THE HOUSE (they'd planned to sprinkle in the ocean one day, I believe - because of his love of dolphins) AND THE OTHER PART WAS AT THE MAUSOLEUM. THE BOX FROM THE HOUSE WAS REALLY FULL, I DON'T KNOW THAT IT WOULD'VE BEEN HALF OF YOUNG COUSIN AT THE MAUSOLEUM. I WONDER IF WE COMBINED YOUNG COUSIN WITH AUNT PAULINE? 

We shared this scenario with Uncle Marty. He agreed. That must've been what he'd done. Aunt Pauline was found. All was well. Uncle Marty relaxed. Pat arrived to handle the flight home, and Ed and I squeezed into the car with the things we were transporting. Ed couldn't help but chuckle periodically throughout our drive home about temporarily losing Aunt P's ashes. 

Not gonna lie - it felt a little like we were in a Vacation movie with Chevy Chase.