I was woken on the morning of May 22, 2010 by my doorbell. I rolled over and lifted my head to see the clock. Who the heck was ringing my bell at 6 in the morning on a Saturday? What idiot would dare come to my door selling magazines or whatnot at this hour?? My husband had left about an hour earlier to go out on his friend’s charter boat. He would be helping out as first mate to the captain, his good friend from work. Several of their co-workers from the prison they worked at would be going out along with a couple others on the first charter of the season and my husband was very excited about it.
I decided I would just ignore the doorbell and hopefully whoever it was would go away. But after a minute or so the doorbell rang again. I got up reluctantly and stormed down the stairs ready to ream someone out. Even without my contacts in, I could see through the front door’s window as I reached the bottom of the stairs that two young sheriff deputies stood there. I immediately thought of my two girls: where were they?? Becky, my 19 year old was upstairs sound asleep. I remembered when she went to bed the night before and she was scheduled to work at Wendy’s at noon. Laura, my 22 year old, lives in an apartment about 2 ½ hours away from me. I felt a little panicked but never thought even for a second that they were there about my husband.
After I opened the door the deputy in front asked me if I was Mrs. Bachus. “Yes.” I answered. He went on to ask me if my husband was on a charter boat that morning. I replied yes again. The next few minutes were a blur. I almost felt like I was underwater for a bit as I couldn’t completely comprehend what they were saying to me. The deputy went on to tell me that the charter boat had been in an accident earlier that morning. They had hit the south breakwall and had sunk shortly after. My husband hadn’t made it. The other passengers were rescued. Although it was perfectly clear at my house, down at the lake and the harbor it was extremely foggy. Usually I could hear the fog horn off in the distance but I hadn’t heard anything that morning. I listened for it after the deputy told me how foggy it was but couldn’t hear it.
I can’t put in to words the shock I felt at that moment. It was like someone had just dropped a brick on my head. I also couldn’t believe this was true. My husband was almost super human. I imagined that he must have drowned in the sinking. How could he drown when he was a great swimmer? One April several years before he had been fishing one morning in his small fishing boat. When he was done and ready to come home, as he was backing his truck down to the dock to pick up his boat, the boat had somehow managed to come untied and float away. My husband Mike stripped down to his tightie whities and swam after it. It kept floating away and he stayed after it, all the way across the lake, even though it was early spring in Northern Michigan.
I learned later that he did not drown but had died of injuries he sustained in the collision with the breakwall itself. But this did nothing to alleviate any shock or disbelief. Even the knowledge that he succumbed to his injuries quickly and probably didn't suffer was little comfort.
At some point a woman from the Sheriff's department showed up. I believe she was a grief counselor. While she was there I tried contacting family members but struck out on everyone until finally getting one of my brothers-in-law to answer his phone. He informed the others for me. Someone called from the hospital to tell me we needed to go over right then to say goodbye because they would be moving him over to autopsy shortly. My younger daughter and I went over. I can't even begin describe what it was like having to see my husband lying on the emergency room gurney like that. There are no words to explain how horrible that was.
The next several days were a blur of making funeral arrangements, important phone calls, family and friends coming by to offer condolences and help out in anyway, sympathy cards and a feeling of being completely lost. We had never discussed burial preferences before. I knew he would not want to be cremated. And as a retired Marine with a long distinguished career, I knew he would probably have wanted to be buried in his dress blues. Not wanting to make any snap decisions, I still needed to make them in somewhat of a hurry. I didn’t even have an appropriate black dress so I would need to find one quickly.
I also was bombarded with phone calls from various media outlets. The news of a charter boat crashing and sinking with one fatality was newsworthy and different newspapers, internet sites, and television stations called me for comment. My gut told me to not make any comment and I should have listened to it. But I didn’t and spoke to several organizations. I don’t think he would have wanted me to speak to anyone. Mike was always a private person and didn't really trust the media. I did email his photo out to appear with some of these articles. There was also now an ongoing investigation into the accident by the Coast Guard.
My mom and step dad had flown up from North Carolina to help out and along with my two daughters and my step daughter, Valerie, we all went to the funeral home to make the arrangements. We picked out a patriotic themed bulletin and a poem I thought he would like. We discussed all the aspects of the funeral service itself and the visitation the night before. Selecting a casket was especially hard on my youngest daughter Becky who broke down. We had been trying to be so strong but it had gotten to be too much.
Mike had retired from the Marine Corps as a Sergeant Major 14 years earlier. Those years had flown by so fast. We had left our life in Southern California where I had grown up for this small Lake Michigan town afterward and I had done my best to make the adjustments needed. It certainly wasn’t easy and over the ensuing years we’d had our share of ups and downs. Just now life seemed to be settling down. He had decided to leave his stressful job at the prison he’d been working at ever since we'd arrived here just a couple months earlier. This was a very difficult decision since it was earlier than we had intended. I was against it at first but after I saw how that decision had positively affected him, I was glad he'd made it. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off of him and he was like a new person. He grew a beard, which I have to admit I hated. He put on a little weight, which he intended to take off that summer when he started running again. But overall he was in much better spirits and seemed so relaxed. In April we took a week-long vacation to an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean (and he finally shaved off the beard!). I can't tell you how glad I am we had the chance to do that when we did. He was relaxed and had fun, had some drinks and didn't even discuss politics for a whole week.
His Marine uniforms had been put away since we moved here and I honestly had no idea where they were. He had a full set of his medals in a glass shadow box frame but I knew there were at least a couple other sets of them somewhere. I assumed they were wherever his uniforms were. Now I needed to locate everything in order for him to be buried in his dress blues with all of his medals. I tore the house apart looking for them and was a complete basket case when I wasn’t able to find everything. My brother-in-law, one of Mike’s younger brothers, had also been a Marine and had made arrangements with the local reserve unit’s active duty First Sergeant for full military honors at the funeral. With his help he also was able to put a uniform together since the one I finally located was too small to fit him now.
The evening of the visitation was surreal. The casket was draped with an American flag topped with a portrait of Mike that he had taken for his last Battalion’s command. He looked very handsome in his Alpha greens. The casket was closed for the visitation because Mike’s body was not ready yet for showing. The room was filled with so many flowers and plants sent by many kind people. Mike’s daughters had put together two picture boards showing my husband’s life over his 55 years. Down in the kitchen of the funeral home someone had sent over several trays of meats and pastries. Over the next 3 hours a steady stream of faces came by to pay their respects. Some of them I knew well, some only looked familiar, some were total strangers to me. But they all knew Mike and all felt the loss and the shock. Some were co-workers of Mike, former co-workers of mine, some were his old high school friends, most of his five siblings, their spouses and children were there. Neighbors and acquaintances, friends and family all coming to say goodbye.
At the end of the visitation I joined Mike’s family and my parents across the street at a neighborhood bar to toast him one last time. It had been such a long tiring and emotional day.
The following day was the funeral. My girls had put together a video slideshow on a DVD to be played at the church. There were complications there as well. The church’s projector had broken earlier that week and they were uncertain if it would be repaired in time. All though it wasn't essential, we really wanted to show it. As fate would have it the projector was repaired in time. During the ceremony, almost as if my husband had decided the long slideshow had gone on long enough, at the mid-point, at the very end of one of the song’s, the projector promptly shut off. Most in attendance assumed it was planned that way and although it wasn’t, it worked out perfectly. I can't help thinking it was Mike as he wasn't always the most patient person!
When I first got to the church I saw Mike for the first time. He looked handsome in his dress blues and his medals were displayed perfectly. His face almost had a grin on it and he looked like he was sleeping. But I have to admit that it was hard seeing him like that. It took me a few minutes to regain my composure. Young marines in dress uniforms closed the casket back up after the viewing and carried it down the aisle toward the altar. The ceremony went well. Afterward we followed his casket out of the church and out to the hearse. The slow procession to the cemetery was somber. My daughter’s boyfriend drove my car. I sat up front with the three girls in the back. We followed directly behind the hearse and drove in complete silence. Along the way cars pulled the side to let us pass. The entry drive into the cemetery was lined with corrections officers from the prison where Mike had worked, forming an Honor Guard for him as they saluted the hearse as it went by.
The gravesite was opened up and draped with a green AstroTurf looking tarp. Over it an awning had been set up. The marines carried the casket to the gravesite as people streamed in from their cars. I couldn’t help jumping at each of the 3 volleys of the 21 gun salute followed by a bugler playing "Taps". They then folded the flag into a perfect triangle and passed it to the senior ranking officer, a Marine Major, who presented to me on behalf of a grateful nation.
Afterward I had invited those who attended to come to my house. My sisters-in-law had helped me with purchasing some food trays and setting everything up. This was all a blur to me too as the only way I could think to cope at that moment was to drink wine, a lot of wine. I can’t even say I remember a whole lot of this gathering of people.
The weeks that followed brought many cards and a lot of frustration and agony. My husband had life insurance. There were no problems there. I guess I had thought the VA would be of more help but they really weren’t. Although a retired Marine, he rated no benefits other than a plaque since he was not disabled. Social Security paid a one-time lump sum payment of $255 and that was all because my children were now over 18. When my husband left his job with the state we gave up our primary medical insurance. We did have Tricare as a backup through the military. The hospital where Mike was taken after the accident did not know we no longer had our primary insurance and billed everything to them. All these claims were of course denied. Tricare received the claims afterward and ended up denying them as well, claiming he had gone out of network. This made no sense to me as this was the hospital two blocks from our home which we had used since moving here. After numerous phone calls, emails and faxes, I was able to sort out the problem and get it somewhat resolved; after which the bills started coming in from the hospital.
Around this same time I started getting all the usual large bills that hit at this time of year: property taxes, auto and homeowner’s insurance, college tuition for the fall, followed by a lawyer's bill and funeral home bill. Fortunately we had paid off our home earlier in the year and had no other debts. This was a huge blessing, especially in light of the fact that I was no longer working. I had been laid off from my job at our local newspaper a year and half earlier. That had also turned out to be a blessing since I didn’t realize just how much I hated my job until I left there. Afterward I went to work for the Census and had worked several phases for them. I had done the same work 10 years earlier. After my husband’s death, I was far too overwhelmed to continue with the work I still had and turned everything in.
Staying busy has helped get me through the last 3 months since getting the tragic news. I painted and fixed things up around the house, replacing some items as needed. The prison my husband had worked at paid for a yard service to cut my grass once a week for the season. This has been a big help as well.
I learned to do many things I never thought I could do. I relearned some things I had long since forgotten (like driving a stick shift when I had to use my husband’s manual shift truck.) I still have many stressful things to deal with: hospital bills, the ongoing Coast Guard investigation, probate, selling things, for example. I’ve felt my husband’s spirit in my house over and over. Sometimes I’ve almost heard his guidance. Overall, with the help of family and friends, I feel I’ve grown stronger and have learned to cope with something I never thought I’d ever have to cope with.
