FAMILY HISTORY

Pat Nelson Hansard This was at Bev's house in Arkansas, Nov. 2010. It was a very difficult morning... one of the worst I've had. We were trying to get ready to leave for Florida for Dad's funeral. Kay woke up early and washed laundry - one of the things she still could do very well. The washing machine overflowed which caused Bev to fly into action before she was even really awake to save her new furniture legs from being damaged. 

Kay's Pick's Disease took over and she suddenly decided she wanted to go back to Arizona and became very agitated. The atmosphere in the house was "charged", to say the least. I thought I would lose my mind... In the midst of all the discussion about leaving for Florida for Dad's funeral, Art decided he needed to "just get Kay back home" eventhough he had just arrived in Arkansas 36 hours earlier. Kay slipped out the front door and walked at the speed of a whirling dervish "to go home". Here she was in a strange city, running away.  Art grabbed his shoes to run after her and I ran out the door. When I reached the end of Bev's street, I couldn't see Kay anywhere. Then in the far distance I spotted her trying to cross a very busy 4-lane road. My head nearly burst. I ran after her, but she outdistanced me at every step. I had left my cell phone at the house, so I had no way of letting Art know where we were. I hoped that a police officer would drive by or someone will help me. Then out of the blue, Art arrived in his truck, Kay allowed him to approach her, and he talked her into getting into the vehicle. 

I walked back to Bev's crying all the way. Just too much stress, fear of Kay harming herself and agonizing over Art's struggle to keep her safe and keep up with her. When he got back to Bev's the decision was made. He put their little vinyl suitcase in the truck, told Bev and I they would not be going to Florida to help bury dad, and we had our very tearful goodbyes. My heart was broken... Bev and I sat in uncomfortable silence... 

About 30 minutes later, Art and Kay walked through the front door. "We're going to Florida. I have to help bury Dad," he said. "We need to get on the road so I can contain Kay." A quick scramble, and off we went in 2 vehicles to go say our final goodbyes to our family patriarch...

The chaos and memory of this day haunted me for months. Decisions made and altered on whim... the rise and fall of emotion... anger and desperation in the room... everything up in the air... the thoughts of how my brother would manage Kay on his own with his poor health... too much. Just too much.

May 13, 2015 at 9:56pm

On the dining room wall behind Art are some of the pictures of Art's and Kay's grandkids. They start with baby pictures at the top and cascade down through the years for each child, Arthur V (Junior), Nikole (Nikki Nikole), Dillon, Kyleigh, Mia.  "I love these kids more than any thing on earth... except for Kay, of course... she is my life. Well, they are, too," Art said to me as we sat having coffee at the table one hot Arizona spring day.

Art had a 2nd born granddaughter, born Keegan Nelson, and had her name changed to Keegan Wisher after her mothe, Colleen's maiden name. Colleen was moved back to New York after her marriage to Arthur IV ended when Keegan was a baby. 

The broken relationships of Art's and Kay's sons impacted their access to the grandchildren around whom their world revolved. Those grandchildren should know how precious they were to their grandparents... and how deeply loved they were. 

(Art's 1st born daughter, Claudia Cher Nelson, from his marriage to Jill, is the mother to some of Art's grandchildren that he loved and prayed for but never met.)

(Art's 2nd born daughter, Denise, is the mother of 3 of his grandchildren - grandson Chase, grandson Cole and granddaughter Callahan. Art met these grandchildren 2 years before he died.)