Posts Tagged ‘life’

I think the hits will keep coming for awhile.

I found out through the accident report that I was able to query that emergency medical services did attempt to work on my oldest son’s father from scene all the way to the hospital. Although they were never able to resuscitate him and considered him to die on scene, as he did, I am glad that they tried to work on him. Family members of his and friends wanted him to turn his life around at some point, especially for my son (and I say “my” where I did because the last time that he saw my son was when he was four months old with him being seventeen years old now). I never thought he would. The man who raised him as stepfather for almost his entire childhood never thought he would, and I can see why he would think that. But he didn’t deserve to die a brutal, pulverizing death being hit so hard by a motor vehicle that he was thrown the rest of the way across the road and died within seconds of impact. I never expected to have to read his obituary at age thirty-seven and instantaneously realize that I was now older than him. I will always be older than him.

The time it took to realize that I was older than him was probably the seconds he lived past impact…

Maybe one.

Probably none.

And like I’ve said, the hits keep on coming.

I found out that my oldest son’s “father” (again, term used loosely here)’s mother refused to fulfill her duties as next of kin upon her son’s passing, and she refused to donate any money to his end-of-life costs and ultimate cremation. Her own parents, for some ungodly reason, did the same exact thing. These people probably have the nerve to consider themselves my son’s family when their actions indicate anything but that to be true. It is absolutely inhumane for you to refuse to fulfill any aspect of your deceased child’s end-of-life wishes — and I’m not even talking about not being able to afford the costs, I’m talking about willful refusal here — and to see that your own parents made the same exact decision you did is horrifying. These are not people that I want to have anything to do with my son, and when their time comes, they better not count him as a relative or name him in their obituaries. I mean, to be succinct here: my abuser is dead. Furthermore, he died in an absolutely horrifying manner and I would not wish that on my worst enemy.

I definitely know who my son’s family members are, though, and by that I mean his actual family members.

This entire experience is also not something that I would wish on my worst enemy. At some point I have to attempt to explain to my son that his father is dead, and I will more than likely — quite here — have to launch into a discussion about what dead actually is, again, before I attempt to explain to him that he can never see or meet him. The last time my son saw his “father” he was four months old, give or take, and his “father” was swiftly court-ordered a justified denial of access to him that became permanent in the coming years. So many more people out there than I realized wanted him to, for lack of a better way to phrase it, “get his shit together” so that he could be involved in my son’s life. Sadly, that point never became a reality.

I am glad that the blow will be softened by the fact that he never actually knew this man as a father figure.

The hits just keep right on coming, friends.

I have a copy of my oldest son’s “father”‘s (again, term used loosely here since he never knew him) death certificate so that I can submit it to the appropriate agencies that we receive benefits and services from. It didn’t tell me a whole lot that I didn’t already know, although I continue to be thankful that I have it. His death was declared to have been due to blunt force injuries, which is essentially the same as blunt force trauma, and was noted to occur within seconds of the motor vehicle collision. They had to guess when his time of death was, and they presumed that he lived no longer than a minute following his injuries. Next week, I want to request the incident report if Jefferson County law enforcement is willing to give it to me, because I would like to have it for my son’s records. I would also like to have the autopsy record and toxicology screening, which I’m under the impression I’m going to have to ask that a friend in Kentucky request it because of their absolutely arcane laws about records of that nature only being open in state.

I’ll be recieving a physical copy of my son’s “father”‘s death certificate in about a week, give or take.

Now that I know the road that this occurred on, I can request the incident report. Apparently I needed to know the location of the incident to request that, and now I know that in addition to the date and time.

The hits just keep on coming, though. They keep right on coming. This has been an Extended Day.

I have some more information on the matter.

After giving it serious thought, I contacted my son’s “father”‘s sister — terms used loosely because the last time my son saw the other man on his birth certificate was when he was approximately four months old (and is now seventeen years old), and none of these family members have been involved in his life — to see if she could provide me with more information on… what happened. I was hoping that she would be cordial and polite… and as it turned out, she was. That makes me even more glad that I chose to contact her.

She informed me that my son’s “father” rode his bicycle into oncoming traffic. He was immediately killed when he was struck, and even by the standards of being hit by a car, his injuries were brutal and his death was instantaneous. As a matter of fact, his injuries were so bad that the morgue had difficulty conclusively identifying him, even when they went through his wallet to see if that would give them any helpful information. For some reason, he carried… something in his wallet that had my name on it, and it was enough for the morgue to attempt to locate me (although they weren’t successful because this was out of state and they wouldn’t have had my phone number). The morgue even went as far as to try and contact my one surviving parent to see if they could get a hold of me through them, and that was unsuccessful for the same reasons. But by a stroke of sheer luck, his father had died two days later, homeless, having overdosed on drugs. When his daughter — my son’s “father””s sister — came to the morgue to identify his body, she was able to identify my son’s “father”‘s body as well, and manage their cremations. Social Security confirmed his death when I called them and gave them his name, age, and Social Security Number from my child’s custody order. I am still perplexed that I managed to be “family” to my abuser and that they would attempt to make contact with me to… deal with all of this, but I’ll save that for another post to save space.

I’m not sure if I mentioned this in the previous post about this or not (I’ve had to talk to so many people about this that the whole thing has become a bit of a blur in my head, which I can completely understand), but Jefferson County — the county that he died in — confirmed that he had a completed death certificate on file, and they allowed me to order a copy of it for my son’s records. I’ve continued to attempt to make contact with the Austin child support office to see if they can… delete my son’s case from their system, because you can’t pursue child support — or much of anything, really — from a dead man. All of my experiences with the Austin child support office have been negative, so I’m not holding my breath that they are going to shuffle their shoes on this. I’ve reported it to HHSC as well, that way they don’t go searching for an absent parent “for support” when that parent is actually dead. And I’ve applied for the one-time death lump sum (I don’t know what to call it, so we’ll just go with… that) and survivor’s benefits on behalf of my son, which he will get for the rest of his life if eligible due to his disabilities. We’ll be finding out in the middle of April if he has enough work credits, and for that matter recent work credits, to qualify someone to draw off of his record. I know that the amount won’t be large because his criminal history precludes him from employment beyond minimum wage, but something is better than nothing. Meanwhile, I continue to be at peace with his passing.

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