Category: Personal

Yesterday I noticed the across-the-street neighbors’ babysitter was back. I’m sure some folks are judging. I am not.

We’ve been looking for someone to come a couple hours per week ourselves and she just showed up this morning.

Yes, we realize COVID cases are hitting record numbers in the US, there’s no vaccine, and nothing is really better at all. And we’re not Trump supporters, anti-maskers, or deep state believers. We’ve done everything “right” throughout the pandemic.

But our mental health is also at record lows. My wife’s in particular. We’ve been with our (almost) two-year-old and (just turned) four-year-old since March with ZERO help from family. It has been incredibly trying.

We’re at a point where everyone needs to start deciding what their personal risk tolerance is, measured against their other needs. Some people need to provide for their families, so their taking the risk of going back to work. That trade off is easily understood and widely recognized.

But I don’t see as many folks talking about the mental health implications of quarantine and lock downs. It’s easy to judge others because it’s so difficult to empathize with everyone’s individual situation.

I hope everyone continues to hang in there and find ways to cope. Here’s to a better second half of 2020.

One of Tucker’s gifts the other week was a “big boy” bike. We’ve had him on one of those balance bikes for the last couple summers. The first year he didn’t do much with it, but last summer he really started mastering it.

We figured it was time to level up.

I could believe how fast he took to it. Here’s a clip of the maiden voyage after practicing twice in the yard:

I was beyond thrilled.

Being a parent has it’s challenges (to put it lightly). There are moments, even days, that make you question whether it is all worth it.

Then there are moments like these that make you feel there is nothing else worth doing.

It is amazing to me that our children will grow up with such huge milestones caught on video, forever archived. What a gift.

I hope they look back at them, putting tears in their eyes like they do mine.

The GPS said it was only six hours home this time. That’s a good 30 minutes faster than the way there. But it didn’t feel that way.

I cried quite a few times.

At one point the rain was so bad I had to pull over and wait it out a few minutes. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was Rachael, pissed off somewhere. I’m not even religious.

There was a moment at my sister’s house yesterday that I won’t ever forget. We were all sitting in the living room attempting to make small talk while the morticians retrieved Rachael from the bedroom.

When they emerged, loaded her onto the stretcher in the living room, and zipped her up, we all fell quiet. As the door closed behind them all you could hear was the rain on the rooftop and everyone in the room, one by one, begin to cry.

I tried my best to hold it in. I think we all were. I think we were trying to hold it together for her two little girls. Right then, her oldest, Cherith, walked across the room and sat down on the couch next to me and cuddle up.

There were nine of us sitting in that living room, but it felt empty. Not physically, but void of energy.

It was an odd moment because I’d felt like I had accepted she was gone. But it seems like every time you feel that way there’s something new that triggers a deeper form of mourning.

I can’t imagine how my parents feel. I can’t imagine how Caleb feels.

I hope I never have to.

It was 12:28am last night when Rachael took her final breath. I was there.

I didn’t like it, but I’m glad I was. My mom needed me.

There are no words for the end. Just a lot of sorries with inferred implications whispered through tears and sniffles.

“I’m sorry…” (you’re going through this).

“I’m sorry…” (this is happening to you).

“I’m sorry…” (we don’t have more time).

“I’m sorry…” (it came to this).

“I’m sorry…” (it’s not me instead).

And so many more.

Everyone was sorry for everyone. There’s just nothing else to say.

I’ve never sat with someone through hospice like that. It’s not pretty, and I felt myself getting angry at the process when I called my brother to give him the news at 12:35am. I was dropping a lot of F-bombs paired with “hospice”.

Maybe I just needed someone (or something) to be mad at. But it feels like there should be a better alternative. Nobody should have to go through that. Nobody should have to watch a loved one go through that.

Yet we all wanted to be there. I’d want to be there again.

I’ll miss you, Rach. This one’s for you:

I didn’t get on the road until about noon today. I decided I couldn’t not go say goodbye to my sister. There were more people driving than I expected, all defying the electronic signs requesting we don’t do what we’re doing.

The service center I stopped to re-fuel at on the I-80 toll road was quiet though. Signs requested standing 6 ft apart, but there wasn’t anyone to really keep your distance from. The food court was closed, and all that was available were gas station snacks at this market:

I grabbed some nuts and went on my way.

I arrived and saw my sister tonight. It’s worse than I expected. She’s skin and bone and awake for just very short stints. When she is awake and trying to talk there are only flashes of lucidity.

I sat with her for awhile and we had some short, funny conversations. At one point she propped herself up, I asked if she needed something, and she said she was going to “slit my throat open and crawl inside me to stay warm… like on those shows.”

I said, “Oh yeah, those survival shows. You know, if I was Ryan sitting here (our brother) I’d expect you to say that, but come on Rach, it’s me!”.

She laughed and said my mom would “have a canary” if she knew I was talking about Ryan that way.

It was an odd conversation, not because of the content, but because it was hard to tell if/when she was understanding what she was saying.

But there were clearer moments. I told her how happy I was that I got to visit her a couple months ago and how it was a good visit. She agreed and said she wishes we could have a better one.

We won’t get that chance.

The hotel is eerily quiet.

I’ve noticed a very clear shift in sentiment toward the Coronavirus in the last 24 – 48 hours. I don’t know if that’s due to our recent stay at home order or something else, but it’s encouraging.

There’s now prolific public shaming in my real estate investment group on Facebook for contractors announcing that they’re still working. I talked to someone quoting cabinets for the McCarty House kitchen that said she wanted to stop by solo because she’s “freaked out”. We’ll Facetime instead of meeting.

I spoke with a roofer today, trying to line up when we can re-roof one of our other properties. He’s not working, and mentioned a $500/person fine on his guys if he were.

Whether people are scared for their lives, their loved ones’ lives, or the risk/reward balance is tipped too far against them in terms of fines, it’s clear the attitude has changed.

Just days ago people were still brushing off the dangers of being in public or cracking jokes about the virus. It’s incredible to see such an abrupt change in behavior and sentiment.

It’s nice to witness. It’s starting to feel like society is uniting, and hopefully that gets us through the other side of this thing faster and in better shape than we’d be otherwise.

My sister, Rachael, has been battling cancer for awhile now. She is not going to beat it.

The targeted therapy they had her on to combat the stage IV melanoma did not work. We knew that the other week, and she’s been in and out of the hospital a couple times since then.

She’s back in now, but will be discharged on hospice in the next day or two. They’re out of treatment options

By the sounds of it, talking with my mom, there isn’t much time left. Rachael is pretty doped up on pain meds in an effort to keep her comfortable, but it also drastically reduces her lucidity.

My knee jerk reaction is to pack a bag, drive the 6.5 hours to Altoona, and say my final goodbyes. But those thoughts are quickly checked by my social responsibility.

My dad and stepmom are there, traveling from northern Michigan. My mom will be there, coming from Florida. My brother in-law, Caleb, has been in the hospital with Rachael, and I have no idea what precautions any of them have taken.

Yes, I may have already been infected with COVID-19, but I’m not certain of that. I do know that traveling right now is an irresponsible thing to be doing, but I also can’t imagine not saying goodbye to Rachael.

It’s strange being home.

I guess it’s because reality is setting in. While we were in SoCal I was following the news and markets insanely closely. I knew what was going on, more so than most folks, but, and although I didn’t realize it, I wasn’t internalizing it.

We had no issues getting groceries, dealing with day-to-day problems, or going insane. My wife’s side of the family decided to hold their reunion, and there were distractions galore. It didn’t feel like there was a global crisis even though I knew there was.

Now that we’re home we’re outside our bubble. The house is bare. We left essentially no food here, so Kaitlin is out fighting lines to get a few essentials. It’s not too terrible, but it will take a few days to stock up a bit.

The markets are absolutely wild. I don’t remember anything like this since 2008. It seems like a lifetime ago, but I distinctly recall watching similar insane moves with my friend Oliver while working as glorified proofreaders (they called us analysts) in the management consulting space.

I recall investing as much as I could. He did the same; we both did well in the coming years. Oliver may still be holding some of his Google stock he bought in his retirement account. I wouldn’t be surprised.

This time is different, at least for me. The only equities Kaitlin and I own are in our 401(k)’s (no, I haven’t bothered looking). Most of our money is going into Detroit real estate now. I have no idea what this will spell for that market, but if it drags on, it can’t be good. Regardless, we’ll keep doing our thing because we have a plan and we’re forming a plan to work through this challenging environment as well.

I’m not sure what bubble the market is exiting but I’m sure they’ll label it in the months and years to come.

We made it home earlier this morning/last night at 2:00am. It was an interesting trip.

LAX was quiet. Too quiet for your typical Sunday. But our flight was more booked than I’d have expected… maybe 65% capacity.

Ryder was a pain, but not as bad as he was on the way there. Oddly, the woman sitting in front of him was just as much of a pain, passive aggressively complaining under her breathe, intentionally reclining her seat toward the end of the flight, and becoming increasingly louder with her “he just keeps kicking!!!” mantra.

Apparently moving over literally one seat, to the empty one next to her, was too much to ask. Apparently, taking any number of the many empty seats on the flight was also too much to ask.

I’ll never understand people.

It was apparently near impossible getting a Lyft or Uber from DTW. One couple had been waiting almost 30 minutes. We need an ‘XL’, so I guess we got luck. Our was there in just 10 minutes.

But the ride to DTW on our way to LAX a month ago that cost us ~$80 cost us $115 today. Ouch!

All Clyde, our driver, could talk about was COVID-19. Nobody was driving, and apparently the only reason he was out was because he heard a rumor they’d be shutting down “the apps” in the next few days. He was trying to make some money before they did.

His mask sat idle in the drink holder.

It was nice to get home to a familiar, toasty house. We kicked the heat on via our Nest app before wheels up in LAX. And it looks like we’ll be spending the foreseable future cooped up inside.

What a time to be alive.