I got a call from a relative tonight, about my cousin who died in December. They finally got legal permission to get into his apartment. Apparently, one minute after stepping into it, they were wishing that they'd not succeeded.
To put it mildly, the apartment was a sty -- a combination of intense and profound neglect and a pack-rat squirreling-away mentality akin to dementia. From the time he was hospitalized to now has been about three months, but the apartment looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in any way for years. The sheet - not sheets, sheet - on his bed was filthy; the pillow so encrusted with dirt that it was stiff. Papers, both significant and trivial, were found crammed into old cereal boxes in cupboards, or under piles of clothing on the floor of closets. Hundreds of photographs, both of his family - my family - and he, himself, alone and with his wife, were found similarly crammed into cardboard boxes, in envelopes, and lying scattered around. He had LPs, but no turntable; CDs, but no CD player. He had a ten year old PC which they couldn't bring themselves to touch because it was covered in mouse droppings. He had suits, some apparently unworn, but no socks, no underwear, no laundry. He had soap, but no shampoo, no combs, no toothpaste or toothbrush. No towels!
And more: they found that he owed various organizations a very large sum of money. There's no financial liability to survivors -- his debts were his alone. But no one understands why. Why did he need the money? Where did it go? Who else might there be, holding a note or a loan?
His surviving immediate family is in a state of severe apoplexy over all of this -- combinations of guilt - though they have nothing to feel guilty about, there's still the feeling of we should have done something -- anger - why didn't he ever respond to any of our notes or cards? - and even a certain amount of fear - what OTHER horrendous pieces of news are we going to come across?
It's a mess, to put it mildly. I told them that they might want to hire a private investigator who could do a public records search, just to see if they could piece together anything more of his life. We said we'd help if they needed it, and we will; I remember him as a friendly, amiable kid, and I'm saddened by his descent into whatever hell his home suggests. Right now, though? Everyone's just hoping it'll just go away.
No one's ready for this.
2 comments:
Happened to me with my brother.
There are no quick, glib or easy answers. Sorry. I feel your pain....
They will need some basic stuff...rubber gloves, sars mask, kevlar painters overalls. A clean private spot where they can disrobe, and flea comb the hair. Take it a bit at a time.
The most precious things are the things which they will be most tempted to throw out...photographs, documents, and so forth. They can be assembled into cardboard boxes and dealt with by professionals.
As far as dealing with the guilt....it might help to remember that some guilt is healthy. Keeps us human.
They cleaned the place out (well, except for the heavy furniture; the apartment complex is handling that, reluctantly). From her description, it sounded as if they needed someone in a toxic waste suit to clean the place.
I told them to just store the stuff they took, and look at it gradually, over a long time.
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