Michael Evanko, July 2, 1932—Feb 21, 2021

We got the call on January 10th that Mike had fallen and broken his hip, which is never a good thing for an 88-year-old. He had surgery where they put pins in his hip. Donna was feeling hopeful by his mobility while at Utah Valley Hospital. He would be there for five days. She wore herself out, going back and forth every day. To come home, he'd need physical therapy. They transferred him to Rocky Mountain Care Center in Heber City. Donna picked that facility for the proximity to us. Since visitors were not permitted, we would at least be close if he needed anything brought over.

We took over some bananas. Donna was worried he'd get hungry and that all they'd him give are packaged foods, which he can't open. We brought muffins and word-searches. Because his memory is such an issue, I printed off pictures of him with family. I thought I'd maybe find just a few pictures, but I ended up finding enough to fill two small photo albums. I dropped those over as well. The time he was at Rocky Mountain was a very stressful time for Donna. The emphasis should be on ROCKY. They never answered their phone when she called, so she felt like she never knew what was going on with Mike. The couple of times that Mike did get through to her, he was in pain or hungry. She was a nervous wreck. We all felt pretty helpless. Then the good news—I guess—he would be allowed two visitors at a time because he was now actively dying. On the days that Donna couldn't be there, we tried to stop by. 

The first time, he was sound asleep. Matt patted his arm, "Mike?" He roused enough for us to have a brief conversation, but he seemed drugged. 

"Well, thank you very much for coming, bye!" We let him sleep.

The night before Valentine's, I felt like I should go over and decorate his room for the holiday. When we tried to buzz in, a nurse met us at the door, "Mike can't have visitors anymore because he isn't actively dying." I went back and forth with the nurse till, finally, she said we could go on back (Callie had worked hard cutting out all of those hearts!)

As she taped them up, I had my last conversation with Mike. His mind was pretty much gone. He couldn't remember anything about his family, even when I showed him pictures. He wondered if everyone was aware of his kookie brain. I said that they were, and it was okay. He said, "Well, it's not, but there is nothing I can do about that." We went around and around the same conversation as I answered the same questions over and over. 

Finally, Callie whispered in my ear, "It's never going to end, so we just have to leave."  As we bid goodbye, I knew it in my heart that it would be my last conversation with the only man I've ever known as a father-in-law. I called Donna to give her the heads up that she most likely would not get to visit him the next day. 

Donna now had the difficult decision to make as to what to do. Leaving him at Rocky Mountain was not an option. Besides the expense, if she couldn't see him, what was the point? After a lot of thought and prayer, she decided to bring him home. 

I have known my mother-in-law for 27 years. She is smart, she thinks things through, and she is close to the spirit. Her decision deserves our respect. If she received less than that, she deserves an apology.

The state is aware of the devastation Covid has wrought on loved ones who die alone. They provided all the supplies that Mike would need at home including, a hospital bed and a daily nurse. They brought him home on Wednesday, February 17th. He passed on Sunday, February 21st. It turns out he was actively dying. Donna had made the best decision for both of them. 

She did not get a peaceful goodbye the first time around when Manuel died in 1981. She needed this. When I called her from Hawaii to say that I was sorry that we weren't there, she said that she was glad that Matt and Laurie were together and that Mark needed the opportunity to serve. Also, Justin lives upstairs. He has been such a help to her. 

We face-timed the kids at home to tell them. Grayson said he was sad all day. Unlike the rest of the family, ours has been a congenial relationship with Mike through the years. He has been especially pleasant, since moving to Utah a few years ago. We have so enjoyed our monthly Sunday dinners.

I'll always remember some wise words Mike spoke many years ago. He said, "When a person is put in the position to defend a decision/something/someone, they no longer will see the faults." That is so true!

Mike's wishes were to be cremated so there would be no funeral. It wasn't till we were back in Utah driving through Park City that Matt said, "It's weird that he's gone." 

Donna decided to have a memorial when Laurie came on March 14th. It was held at Mark and Jamie's in Orem. Donna told us about Mike's life, even the sad parts. She said that he has moved every four years since they met. He was due for another move. She pointed towards heaven, "So there he went."

Grayson said, "Can I hold that baby?"

Look, there is another one!

After eating and visiting, as Donna gathered the things she brought, she handed Grandpa's last tan jumpsuit to Grayson, "This is worn-out. You can put this in the trash." 

I saw that Grayson brought it home, "I couldn't just throw it away." 

Mike kept his space meticulous. After he had passed, Donna and I looked around his room. She said, "He kept everything just so. The junky papers are from me." 

I asked her about the bowl on the wall. She said that someone brought them a treat. He got to the bottom of the bowl and realized how pretty it was. He said, "Can I have this?" The next thing she knew, he had screwed it to the wall. He loved pretty things. That was also why he hung the shiny kitchen scrubber that Donna bought, "Can I have this too?"

I won't go into the details of the "memorial" other than to say that it was a chance for us to have a conversation with the kids on the way home. I told them, "If you let someone who doesn't like me host my memorial, I will haunt you." 

Matt had been struggling to find the right word whenever he mentioned the upcoming memorial, "A ceremony? a mortuary?" 

It turns out that the right word for the occasion was "a BBQ." Maybe even a roast:/