Mixed Metaphors

Musings on Life, Love, & Death

A Three-Part Series, the Beginning, the Middle, and the End (Or, Is it?)

“I take thee to be my wedded (wife/husband), to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”  — Traditional Wedding Vows

5/31/2026

As I write, it’s the last day of May. Last weekend we observed the Memorial Day holiday which for me is an opportunity to not only pay tribute to those who served and died for our country, but a time to remember family, friends, and loved ones no longer present in life yet remain in memory.

For me, there were traditions associated with the holiday weekend, the unofficial beginning of summer. During a time when I was estranged from my bio family, a group of lesbian friends, my chosen family, The Orphans, would camp Memorial Day weekend in Door County, Wisconsin at Peninsula State Park. We were estranged from our families, or orphaned, and shared a commitment to recovery from alcohol and substances and/or our loved ones struggled with substance use and harming behaviors.

After my bio family reconciled, following an intervention and the upcoming marriages of two of my sisters, I returned to my childhood home, and with my siblings, nieces, sometimes grandnephews, and family friends (honorary members of the Loud Family), we’d plant flowers in our aging parents’ yard. It became an annual tradition until our parents died and our childhood home was sold. One more letting go.

As a person of a certain age, I’ve said goodbye to family, friends, work colleagues, cohorts, many who were my contemporaries. The past few years, I’ve attended a growing number of Celebration of Life events and funeral visitations. They are reminders of my mortality, and at 76, an incentive to live each day as fully as possible. For this blog, I’ve written tributes, and I’m learning the relationship of how grief and gratitude go hand-in-hand.

It’s been a gift to share the final days with loved ones in hospitals, nursing homes, hospice centers, and at their bedside. Sometimes the news of a death is unexpected, and the loss seems greater when one misses the opportunity to have those final conversations of forgiveness, gratitude, and to say goodbye.

This leads me to the final installment of my life’s journey with Frank A. Schatzley, my first love, former husband, and chosen family. We married, separated, and divorced, navigating those transitions often imperfectly, yet in the end we experienced resolution. I’m grateful for the years we had reconciling after estrangement, how we redefined our relationship, and shared the gift of months together at his bedside before his death in March this year.

Frank A. Schatzley died peacefully at Agrace HospiceCare on Saturday, March 20, 2026, the first day of spring.  

This is the final installment in the three-part series.

From Till Death Do Us Part: Part I — The Beginning

Little did I know when I spoke those vows on March 14, 1970, that they would apply after our divorce. I’m grateful they did. It’s a gift that some of us are lucky enough to receive. It’s true for me and my former husband, Frank Schatzley. It required love, commitment, amends, letting go of resentments, and forgiveness. Did I say I was grateful?  I am.

Till Death Do Us Part: Part II – The Middle Years

This is the second in the three-part series, a tribute to Frank, and a chronicle of our relationship. Part one is the story of how we met, fell in love, took a sabbatical, reunited, and married. Part two shares our journey as spouses, our decision to separate and divorce, the years of estrangement, followed by reconciliation, and transition as we became chosen family.

Till Death Do Us Part: Part III – The End (Or, Is It?)

“Your life will be a great and continuous unfolding. You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years. Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness.” — Cheryl Strayed

I took a two-month break before drafting this final installment of the three-part series, the beginning, middle, and end of my relationship with Frank, first love, former husband, and chosen family.  With tongue in cheek, I posed the question whether this was the end, or is it? I already knew the answer. When loved ones die, our relationship with them continues as we grieve, find solace in our memories, are visited by them in our dreams, and they’re present in our daily life in the traditions we follow, the stories we tell, food we eat, and in the faces of the generations that follow.

The break was necessary for my grieving. In the past few months, I’ve said goodbye to friends, chosen family, and cohorts, attended Celebrations of Life, received notifications of unexpected deaths, and sat beside of a longtime friend under hospice care. I’ve learned to lean into my grief, yet as a person of a certain age, I’m reminded to be present in mine, live each day fully, not be overwhelmed by the past, or spend too much time anticipating the future. With age and self-reflection, comes wisdom.

6/5/2026

Before I recount the end-of-life journey I shared with Frank, his family, my family, his best friends, and the support of caregivers and hospice, I take a moment to acknowledge the deaths of two friends, the first, Janice Czyscon, a friend and feminist-activist I’ve known since the late 1970s, along with her spouse and daughters. Janice died unexpectedly in May.

This week I learned of the passing of Vera Jean King, ‘Vig’ to her friends and loved ones. Vig was a member of ‘The Orphans,’ a group of lesbian women in recovery, some like Vig, who shared a 15-year peer support group. The Orphans celebrated holidays together and supported each other. I met Vig when I became sober, 41 years ago. Gratefully, a month ago, I was able to have lunch her and our mutual friend Kathy, and last week visited Vig at Agrace Hospice where she died on Tuesday with loved ones at her side. Next Wednesday, I attend her service.

I’m grateful that I interviewed Janice, her spouse, Crystal, and Vig for the University of Wisconsin Archives, Madison LGBTQ+ Oral History Project. I helped preserve the story of their lives in their own words.

I also want to acknowledge the death this week of a former coworker, Sandra Bandt.

End-of-Life Journey with Frank

I’ve meandered before I share this emotional chronicle of our final shared journey. In our western culture we’re not taught how to grieve a death. We learn a lot about how to live, not enough about how to die. In my experience, some of us are not prepared for the death of loved ones. I’ve become a good student. Grateful.

During our time together the past seven months before Frank died, we revisited the stories of our life together. We each made amends and held no resentments; our love and gratitude for each other was a gift.

How It Began

I had been staying in touch and visiting Frank occasionally at nursing and rehab centers after his amputation at the knee of his left leg. After an accident while receiving occupational therapy, the stump on his leg was injured and he was no longer a candidate for a prosthetic. He remained bedridden, and his health deteriorated, due to life-threatening psoriasis condition, related skin infections, and gastrointestinal issues exacerbated by his medications.

In the past decade we had grown closer again. It was important to me since we had redefined our relationship as chosen family; I made the decision to be at his side and share his journey with him.

After a hospitalization in mid-August 2025, Frank made a decision to begin a hospice journey with Agrace. Following is the update I shared with Frank’s close friends George and Jackie and later with Frank’s niece, Cory, after meeting with Frank and Agrace for his hospice intake.

George serves as Frank’s Legal Power of Attorney and Executor of his Will. Early in the process Frank had not yet named a Medical Power of Attorney. He didn’t want to burden his family with the responsibility. George and Jackie believed they had a conflict of interest since they were managing his finances and paying his bills, and I declined after talking with Frank.

Frank Update 8/18/25:

I visited Frank today after he was transferred from the hospital back to the Madison Health & Rehabilitation Center. Sierra, an Agrace Hospice admission nurse, met with Frank to have him sign hospice program documents, DNR forms, review hospice care services, his medications (which ones he will continue to receive, those he will not, including stopping supplements), and discussed the care schedule and next steps.

Tomorrow, Frank meets with a nurse and will be seen by a nurse once a week moving forward to assess his care and health status. Tomorrow, he’ll also meet with a social worker. Frank plans on discussing his concerns about the facility he’s currently in and would like to explore options for other (better) facilities. Once a week hospice provides his primary care doctor a report. Twice a week, CNAs will see him and make sure he’s bathed, and his care needs are being addressed. Hospice care supplementals the nursing care he’s receiving in the nursing home/rehab center.

Frank received a binder from Agrace with all the hospice documents, respite care info, contact info, copies of the DNR, etc. George and I were Frank’s main contacts with Agrace and would receive status updates from the Agrace RN after their weekly visit.

For the past seven months of Frank’s life, Agrace Hospice provided compassionate end-of-life care, while he continued to be a resident and patient at Madison Health and Rehabilitation Center. Before the end of his life, he was transferred to the Agace Hospice Hospital Unit.

The Autumn of Frank’s Life

Frank’s surviving family lived in our hometown of Racine, Wisconsin and across the country. A year ago, his younger sister Mary died, years earlier, his eldest sister, Char. His older brother, Dennis lived in Ohio, yet struggled with his own health and was unable to travel. Frank’s friends, who he attempted to track down, he couldn’t find, some lived across the country, others checked-in on the phone.

Frank’s primary circle of support were his best friends George and Jackie, his longtime duplicate bridge partner and her daughter, and his friend, who he referred to as ‘the red-haired girl’, and me. I made the commitment in the fall while I was still working to visit in person once a week and talk on the phone between visits.

At the beginning, our visits were lighthearted. We talked about our passions: films, music, good food, social justice, the state of the world. Frank always loved games of chance. George and Jackie would bring him scratch-off and lottery cards. The Powerball Lottery was growing, the jackpot from 700 million to almost 2 billion. I began purchasing tickets. We’d split the winnings and get him into a posh facility.

RN’s from Agrace Hospice would update George and I after their weekly visit. I would share with Frank’s niece, Cory, the primary family contact. I also updated my siblings who Frank continued to consider his family too. In September, Frank hosted visits from his nieces and nephew, and my sisters, Kelly and Tami and their spouses. The visits lifted his spirits. Since he was bedridden in a nursing/rehab facility for over two years, the earlier isolation was eroding his hope. Family and friends, both his and ours, sent greeting cards and photos which he always appreciated.

As I visited Frank, we discussed what my role would be in how best to support him. George and Jackie were handing financial and legal responsibilities. Frank wanted my company and the opportunity to reminisce about our shared lives and passions. When I asked about his obituary, he wanted my help in writing one in his own words. We drafted one, revisited and edited it over the course of the next months.

A typical visit would feature reviews and recommendations of the films we were watching. I was viewing films in the theater or streaming new movies, Frank was watching classic b/w films from the 1940s and 1950s, lots of film noir.  Next music. He was gifted an Alexa and would play his favorite genres from blues, to 1960s and 1970s rock, acapella singing groups (Frank loved to sing), and more, an eclectic mix of music.

We also talked a lot about food! We were foodies to a degree before there was such a thing. We reminisced about our favorite restaurants when we were married, the wine we made in the pantry of our kitchen in Kenosha, the bread I’d bake each week. Frank introduced me to food outside of my family’s comfort food traditions.

Frank complained — a lot — about the food at the nursing/rehab center, too salty, too bland, often served cold, and unappetizing. His appetite too would wane, due to his medications and sedentary condition. George and Jackie would deliver his favorite fresh fruits and vegetables, hot tea, hot chocolate, hot meals, licorice, and crunchy snacks.

I too simply wanted to feed him, so I brought him leftovers, like I did for our father before he died.  I often brought foods to Frank we enjoyed while together, recipes that appealed to his Hungarian palate, and his love of seafood. Once, I brought him a Maine lobster roll from the Cousin’s Maine Lobster Food truck. He ate every bite. Frank talked his favorite Agrace RN to bring him the pumpernickel bagel with liver sausage and onion that he was craving.

Soon our conversations became more intimate. Though we thought we had made all of our amends to each other, we delved deeper, with an intention to fully let go of the things that happened, and though there was pain involved, there was now an understanding and renewed love and acceptance. We did not want to leave any unfinished business. It was a reminder of how deep our love remained.  Grateful.

The Last Winter of Frank’s Life

At the end of 2025, on the eve of my 76^th birthday, I retired from my half-time position as an LGBTQ+ AODA & Harm Reduction Advocate. There were a number of contributing factors. Though the income was supplementing my Social Security, friends, family, and my therapist were encouraging me to take time for myself. I had worked since I was 11-years-old, 65 years!

I also didn’t want to navigate another winter driving every day and I became more cautious with walking on snow and ice for fear of falling. I had a successful hip-replacement and a few moths later had an accidental fall that fractured my shoulder.

I made a commitment to Frank to visit twice a week when I retired, though in practice I was unable to keep my commitment. I felt some guilt about it (residual Catholic-style guilt), though Frank was both understanding and forgiving. Wintery weather with snowy and icy streets and sidewalks kept me home by choice.

We’d always talk on the phone when I couldn’t visit in person. Frank rallied for a while, the additional care he was receiving from Agrace made an incredible difference in his health and well-being. He began questioning whether he was at the end of his life, though the reality of remaining bedridden eroded his hope for the future.

Frank’s skin conditions improved and the threat of septic infections lessened. On the flip side, he was eating less, losing weight, his appetite diminished, some as a result of his pain medications. He was having difficulty with bowel movements, alternating between constipation followed by loose stools.

Soon he had more pain and discomfort, some difficulty swallowing and breathing. Things changed. Frank began talking about readying for death. We revisited his obituary, again, not wanting to burden his family who were grieving deaths of loved ones and struggled with their own health issues.

Frank vacillated, some days advocating for his health and care, other days surrendering. For those who loved him, it became tricky business, supporting his wishes while they were dynamic and changing, while caring for ourselves and not allowing our grief to be an impediment to his resignation, or tempering his hope.

George, Jackie, Cory, and I, now joined by his brother Dennis, in partnership with Agrace, communicated more frequently on how to support Frank as his health diminished, and the uncertainty about his future ramped up. One day, I serendipitously encountered his Agrace social worker who recognized me as she was leaving after a visit and I was arriving. I expressed my concerns. She listened.

The season was changing, winter was waning, snow melting, and hints of spring were in the air. I was able to keep my twice a week commitment for in-person visits. Behind the scenes I and more conversations with his Agrace RNs and social workers. I realized, as Frank’s loved one, I was also being cared for and supported.

Beginning in March, Frank’s health declined. He received oxygen to assist with breathing and pain meds were increased. He was sleeping more and sometimes was disoriented. He stopped eating for the most part, drank water with a straw, and ice chips to moisten his lips.

Following are updates in live time I shared with George, Jackie, and Cory, beginning March 14^th, our wedding anniversary had we stayed married. Again, it was serendipitous that I was present this day at his side, advocating for him and updating his personal care team.

March 14, 11:02 a.m.

I’m with Frank. They have him off of oxygen. I was concerned and checked with the CNAs. They indicated he was authorized for oxygen as needed, not continuously. Frank was struggling to be awake, opening and closing his eyes, but he knew I was here. Today is our wedding anniversary. I shared the reminiscence with him that I was writing. He began to aspirate due to mucous. I talked with the CNA to get some help for him and they said only hospice is authorized for that kind of care, and that the hospice RN had seen Frank earlier.

A few moments later the Agrace nurse, Sarah returned. She shared that Frank has a bowel obstruction and continuing issues with mucous. Also, until his pain is managed, they can’t move him off his back to treat his skin. Their suggestion is that with Frank’s permission or George as Frank’s POA, they authorize a transfer to Agrace’s inpatient hospital unit if there is a bed available. That way they can address the bowel obstruction and treat his skin.

I clarified with Sarah that Frank originally wanted to go to Agrace so he could receive oat baths for his skin, but would be required to self-pay. We asked Frank if he wanted to be transferred to the Agrace hospital unit and he shook his head yes. Sarah also said George’s POA was not activated yet. I told her I thought it was this week. She’s checking the status. That’s all I know for now. I’m hoping to hear if there’s a bed in the hospital unit at Agrace and if yes, when they would transfer him.

March 14, 11:32 a.m.

 I spoke to Sarah from Agrace before I left. Sarah reported that the hospice doctor authorized the transfer. They’re waiting to find out if there’s a bed available. If not, Frank will be put on the waiting list. Sarah believes that Frank has authorized the transfer with his head nodding yes. They asked him the same question before I arrived and he said no. I explained that originally, they told him he would need to self-pay but clarified for Frank that now since he’s near death, if the doctor approves it as medically necessary, Medicaid covers it. George you may need to confirm that I have that correct. Sarah will call me about the bed availability as soon as it’s confirmed, and I’ll update you all.

Sarah from Agrace called me. There’s NOT a bed available right now. Frank is on the waiting list. There’s one person ahead of him. If he doesn’t get transferred today, Agrace will return tonight for a second visit.

March 14, 2:47 p.m.

Good news update: Frank is being picked up in the next 15 minutes by Ryan Ambulance Service and is being transported to the Agrace In-Hospital Unit and should arrive around 3:30pm. He will receive better round-the-clock care and pain and wound management. He is able to have visitors. Cory, here’s info for Agrace Hospice. If Beth is still planning on visiting tonight, she may want to call first to make sure he’s in a room and settled in. It’s a wonderful facility. George, as Frank’s POA, you may want to confirm that there’s no self-pay or financial responsibility other than Medicare/Medicaid. 

The Final Journey

Frank was transferred to the Agrace Hospice Hospital Unit. This was not my first visit to Agrace Hospice Center. Years earlier, I visited my mentor, friend, and chosen family, Elthea for her final days. It’s a beautiful environment and continues to grow.

After a couple of days of Frank getting settled in and some stormy spring weather, I finally visited on St. Patrick’s Day. Here’s my update to Frank’s care team:

March 17, 2:06 p.m.

Hello everyone. I’m here with Frank. He’s comfortable and aware enough to know that I’m here and has nodded in response to my questions. There’s music playing in his room and the room is spacious and well-appointed with a bathroom and shower (though of course he can’t use it). I just spoke with the Julia his RN today who administered some medication. His eyes are rolled back and his mouth is open and he’s breathing slowly and comfortably.

I asked Frank’s permission to take photos, including of him, and he nodded yes. As Aaron the Nurse Practitioner indicated yesterday in his update, Julia reported Frank has a couple more days, a week, and a chance for maybe a few more days before passing. I asked if he was glad, he was here at Agrace and he nodded yes. I’ve been to Agrace a number of years ago and it’s breathtakingly beautiful and serene, with park-like nature right outside his windows. I’m so grateful he is here, comfortable, and cared for. Bonus, visitor parking was available and I got senior parking steps from the entrance. I’ll send photos later today.

George, Jackie, Cory and I began conversations on next steps on Frank’s behalf, delineating our roles and responsibility for communication with Agrace, and for informing family and friends.

My next and last visit with Frank, the day before he died.

March 19, 4:10 p.m.

Frank Update: I visited Frank this afternoon. He’s declined more. He did not nod to acknowledge my presence, yet he did try to open his eyes throughout the visit. I’m not sure if he’s able to see since his eyes are rolled back. I do think he was aware that I was there. He’s heavily sedated and comfortable. I met Mo, his Agarce RN who cared for him at the nursing/rehab center. She said very sweet things about him. I also met Emily the Agrace RN who is caring for Frank today. There were flowers in his room (I’ll send a photo), and the shades were open with sunlight flooding his room (another photo to follow) and they had 1960’s music playing. Frank is comfortable and I’m glad he’s there for his final days receiving the care he deserves. As I mentioned I plan on visiting again on Saturday and will try to time it to coordinate with you George and Jackie, and Cory if you’re feeling better. I think Frank’s near the end of life, yet he seems to be holding on.

Frank passed on the first day of spring, at Agrace HospiceCare on Saturday, March 20, 2026, a time of restoration and renewal. Frank A. Schatzley Obituary (In His Own Words):  

Frank A. Schatzley Obituary

Frank A. Schatzley died on Friday, March 20, 2026, the first day of spring at the Agrace Hospice Center, Madison, Wisconsin.

In his own words: “I was born 11/29/1948 or 11/29/49 into a world of uncertainty —a dispute which remains unresolved.” Frank was born in Racine, Wisconsin and lived most of his life in Madison, Wisconsin.

“The essence of my life rotated around the letter ‘r.’ I was born a rascal and lived my life fluctuating between risk and rationalization. Born into a devout Catholic family, I lost my mother at an early age, affecting the focus of my upbringing. As far as a career path, I was a jack of all trades and a master of few.”

Frank was preceded in death by his parents, Arthur H. Schatzley and Elizabeth M. Schatzley (Jacob), and both his paternal and maternal grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.  Also preceding him in death, his eldest sister, Charlotte A. Pfeiffer (Schatzley) and husband Thomas Pfeiffer, younger sister, Mary E. Drier (Schatzley) and husband, Patrick Drier.

He is survived by his older brother, Dennis J. Schatzley and wife Kathy Schatzley (Jensen), loved in life as Uncle Frank by eight nieces and nephews, Lesli Nagy, Erika Malone, Cory Fitch, John Pfeiffer, Chris Drier, Andrew Pfeiffer, Beth Drier, Nick Schatzley and their families.

Frank is also survived by his former wife, Linda Lenzke and her family, best friends, George Yelder and Jackie Williams, and the countless number of people he met in life playing games of chance, around the dinner table sharing a good meal, and at the duplicate bridge tables, including his beloved long-term partner.

Frank is described by those who loved him by another ‘r’ word. He was a rapscallion, a storyteller, and always sought adventure, or the path less traveled.  Frank never shied away from a debate or an opportunity to help someone. He was a gentle giant with a heart to match. Before he suffered debilitating health issues, he cared for and supported others in his life.

Family and friends wish to thank all the staff at Agrace Hospice for their compassionate care, especially his hospice nurses, Carli Putz and Mo Williams. Donations in Frank Schatzley’s memory may be made to Agrace https://www.agrace.org/donate/ or the social justice nonprofit of your choice. A Celebration of Life is planned for a later date.

Gifts & Lessons Learned

First, I’m grateful I took this journey with Frank and his loved ones. I strongly believe that grief and gratitude go hand-in-hand and it’s a privilege and a gift to share the time we had, the reminiscing, the stories, the amends, the forgiving, the love, till death do us part.

Broken Open

Related Reading from Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!

Till Death Do Us Part: Part I – The Beginning

Till Death Do Us Part: Part II – The Middle Years