Since my dad passed away, things have been insane. We have been packing up his home; sorting through stuff, dealing with the lawyer, worried about the x-family that my dad used to consider his, working to make money, and more. I wasn’t sworn in as my dad’s executor, so that is on hold for the moment. In order to become the executor, I have to find my half-sister who we haven’t seen in more than 20 years. She has to be notified, even though she wrote us off years ago. I finally found her; kind of. I’ve found her family, but she has not contacted me yet. Least now I have a name; that’s more than I’ve ever really known about her.
What’s Next for Jack Parkinson
The people who stole from him have continued to do so. They seem to think they are above the law on so many different levels. For one; they have not replied to the lawsuit at all. They were given 30 days to do so, but have failed so far. They seem to think that because he is gone, they no longer have to reply. Not true. The courts still expect a reply, but I cannot push it until I’m the executor of the estate. The same with his home. We were fighting an eviction…The eviction still isn’t “real” because my dad never had his day in court. BUT, they have now broken into his home and taken who knows what of his property. The law in most states is quite clear on the fact that property ownership does not give you permission to take control of personal property. They were supposed to wait until an executor was found and have to give 30 days. During which time, the property should stay secured so that there is no theft of what little they left my dad on the property. Then if I do not have everything; they should have-with a police escort, removed things from the property and put it into a storage shed. Instead, they have no trespassing signs everywhere, the property taped off, and they left the door to his home wide open so that any burglar can come in and take what they are able to find. Another man who was staying on the property-the veteran from earlier posts still has a camper there. He was never notified by law to move it off the property, but they have also broken into it and it also remains open for anyone who wants to go inside of it. They are clearly breaking the law on many levels…and I am hoping that within the next week or so I can prosecute them for doing so. It will be my pleasure to have all four of them locked in a cell.
I am begging everyone who reads this; please show your support for Jack Parkinson. He is no longer here with me, but he deserves so much more than what they are doing to him. My dad was far from perfect…he was imperfect in a million little ways. But he is still so much better than any of them. He would never have stolen from someone. He would never have trashed their memory or disgraced their life the way they have done to him. He was an alcoholic. He was sick. He developed dementia. He wouldn’t take care of himself the right way. In death, all of that is still being proven….but one thing is for sure….in his life; he was 100% more a person than the idiots he used to call his family.
Share my website…help me speak out against elder abuse. Show you support and help me put an end to the suffering that our elderly generations have to feel. With any luck at all; you will one day live to become an elderly person. Do you want to have to worry about who will steal everything you worked your life to acquire? It won’t stop until we stand up and say that it has to end. Help me to end elder abuse!
Since Jack Parkinson passed away, things have been crazy. I finally stopped crying over losing him, but it still does not seem real. I have his ashes sitting in my home, so I know that he isn’t coming back, but I still randomly think I wish someone would pinch me and wake me up from the nightmare. It hurts to not have him here with me. My dad drove me nuts for nearly 5 years. We had our ups and downs. We had our times of laughter and of anger.
Missing My Dad
At times I was so completely done fighting with him that I’d swear I wouldn’t spend another day trying to help him. But now, I’d give anything to talk to him for a few more minutes. I wish I could go back to the Tuesday before he passed away when in the car, we rode mostly in silence and then I rushed off that evening possibly without saying I love you. I’d go back and make sure that I told him I loved him. I’d go back and talk to him more that day. We were both preoccupied. I’d talk to him more once we got back to his house about the things he wanted to do once the property was returned to him. Hell, if I could go back to the Wednesday before he died; I’d go to his house and spend even more time talking to him.
There are no takebacks, though. I cannot travel through time and make things right. I cannot say all that I want to say. I cannot go back and take more photos of him – just so I’d have them. It is not fair, but it is the way life works. It was NOT his time to go yet. God should have let him stay here for a little while longer. His great-grandchild loved him and so did everyone else he knew, but his great grand will not remember him. He should have had the chance to remember him.
The Price of Elder Abuse
There is no doubt in my mind that the elderly abuse he suffered at the hands of the family is what ended his life. He wasn’t allowed to stay in a nursing home after surgery because he had no property. He wasn’t able to remember his medications, even though I laid them out in his pill container weekly. He wasn’t ready to function at home alone, but I was removed from the property. Part of me feels that because I told his brother that I’d move in with dad when he got home if he needed me to, was part of the reason that they attempted to kick him off the property. As far as I’m concerned, his death is on their hands. The sad part is; they will never face a murder charge. They will never face jail time for killing him. They will never suffer what he suffered and they will never lay in a bed for 24 hours after they have passed on; because no one cared enough to watch over him, except Allen and I and we were sent away from there to live in another county 40 miles away. Where is the justice for my dad?