…said the voicemail from the lady at lawyer’s office. The estate is closed. It is all done.
Wow – wow – wow.
You would think that after nearly a year that I wold be ready to draw a close to this – but the words hit me like a ton of bricks. It was almost insulting to think that Mom and Dad had been reduced to those words… the “estate”. Since the estate was closed, therefore, they were too?
I cannot understand why some things resonate with me in such a way. It was a normal progression of which I was fully informed, not to mention the master behind. It is like point A leads to point B and yes, of course, there you must follow. Yet – there is an element of surprise that knocks the socks off you when you are least expecting.
To close an estate is a heck of a lot of blood, sweat, and mostly tears. But it was a journey that I feel prepared me for the final destination more than had I not been able to take it. It was a road that had never been travelled before. Robert Frost sure did get it right in his poem, ‘Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening”.
“Whose woods these are, I think I know. His house is in the village, though. I’m sure he won’t mind if I stop for a while to see his woods fill up with snow.” (or something to that nature) How ephemeral it must have all seemed then – as it does now. What a temporal existence we live – to end with a phone message indicating it is all done.
I look up from my computer screen to see an image of Mom and Dad smiling… those were happier times for them. They were healthy – not a care about health issues or finances or death benefits. They really had their eyes set on their own future. I remember Mom often breaking into silent tears of her own to mourn the loss of her own mother – so, so many years before. I thought how odd it was that one could feel such strong emotion nearly 50 years, then 55 years, then 60, and then some, years after a loss. I don’t look forward to that – but what an honour it would be at the same time. Bitter – sweet is the way I guess some would describe the feeling.
Several of my colleagues at work are going through the motions I once went through. And although their pain is palpable, I am pleased to see the loyalty and dedication to their parents is as strong as mine was to my own parents. It is heart-breaking and I feel the emotions all over again living through their own piece-by-piece loss. A very wise friend of mine always said that, “the degree to which you grieve is a measure of the degree to which you have loved.” I find comfort in that statement – knowing that the price I pay for the loss of my parents has great value measured in love … not money.
Money, indeed, cannot buy happiness and I would exchange it all to have them back. I know that if I actually could strike that deal I would feel horrible as I am confident they are in a better place now than when they were here. It would be selfish of me to wish their return – – yet I dream.
Tonight would be a good night to have them visit me in a dream. I always take great comfort in their visits – although it has been a while since their last visit.
Meanwhile, the dishes need doing, the floor needs vacuuming, and the family needs a Mom – in real time. So, my friends at the lawyers office… I will bid you adieu and reply back, “It has been a pleasure working with you too.”