Even my dreams last night were prayers. We lost Kathy, Laurel’s mom, on my birthday. I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose my step-mother on my birthday, too.
Even so, I am torn. So, I pray for the best outcome … an outcome I can trust will be the right path for all of us, not just what I want. Barbie doesn’t want to die. On the contrary, she very much wants to live. Who am I to decide for her how much she can or cannot suffer to fulfill that destiny? I worry about all things: the financial, emotional, and the spiritual. Will my father and my cousin Alex be out of a home? What will happen to the horses, the dogs, the cats? Who will see to it that my baby nieces have some small legacy to build their lives upon? Certainly not my sister. For as much as she has grown over the last year, given her penchant for spending money unchecked and without thought to the consequences …
I’ve not been able to convince Barbie that having a clearly defined will is not an admission of desire, as if by signing on the dotted line one accepts this is one’s fate. Death is everyone’s fate. I’m constantly at a loss as to how to convey this to my family and to others.
If you say a thing to a family member, for example, perhaps you wish to be cremated, unless it’s in writing, signed and dated, and witnessed, it may not happen. Any close relative, a brother or a sister (provided you don’t have a spouse to make the decisions), can undermine your verbal direction. So, in the event of your death, if you want something specific to happen, write it, don’t say it.
I know pretty much from top to bottom what Barbie wants done and how. She’s told me many times over the last ten years. But, without a proper will, if she dies, the most I can do is stand back and watch while the vultures swarm in. And, they will. When her mother died, I watched her family turn into scavengers and thieves. I can’t imagine they’ll have changed much since that time.
The difference now is that it’s my heritage … my history I’ll have to watch them liquidate and devour.