Long ago,
I faced a conflict that countless others have and will encounter after losing a parent.
How do siblings divide their belongings?
This challenge often creates an overwhelming weight that compounds the already heavy burden of grief and loss,
Particularly with significant financial considerations,
Items of deep sentimental value,
And the notion of equitable distribution.
Lines blur as strained connections give rise to feelings of doubt and distrust.
Pressures among beneficiaries can place the executor in an uncompromising position,
Especially if they are also a legatee.
This scenario can escalate rapidly when legal counsel is sought,
As offspring find themselves on opposite ends of the table,
Separated by attorneys.
Adding to this tension,
Surrounding family members can quickly become involved,
Especially those with minor contentious histories.
Creating a perfect storm,
Old rivalries will resurface.
An array of unwelcome feelings,
Bitterness,
Resentment,
Regret,
Guilt,
And misgivings will invade,
Arriving without warning.
If these elements are the fuel,
Then money is what ignites the fire with its strange and polarizing force.
It can stir up feelings of joy,
Fear,
Pain,
Apprehension,
Awkwardness,
Shame,
Comfort,
Craving,
And suspicion.
Studies show that 70% of families experience conflict over money or inheritances after the death of a loved one.
Losing a parent for the first time is challenging enough,
No matter how close or distant the relationship was.
It is a massive,
Penetrating gaze into newly realized conceptions and considerations,
From mortality,
Love,
Fairness,
Life purpose,
Disconnected memories,
And previously unfathomed remorse.
You want to honor that person in the best way you know how.
You want to show up for them,
As well as yourself.
You want to mourn.
You strive to navigate this path correctly.
There could be other people muttering things in your ear that will throw added uncertainty into your conscience about how assets from the lost family member will be handled.
Many out there have been overlooked,
Leaving them with nothing,
While a fortunate few manage to navigate these waters with mutually agreeable resolutions.
Others will find themselves in a probate quagmire that will have the potential to become a web of complex decisions and ambivalent sentiments.
Amid great tensions,
I found myself grappling with brotherly bonds while being true to myself.
Ambrose Bierce,
The prolific wordsmith,
Defined legacy as something handed down by a predecessor,
Often a burden that one must carry.
Albeit wry,
There is more than a vestige of truth to this.
Concerning the deceased,
We are talking about someone else's life,
Their personal contributions,
Choices,
Conversations,
Hidden privacies,
Hard and dedicated work,
Mastery of their craft,
And their own pained heart from unbridgeable divides.
Most importantly,
Their love for you,
And its specific expression as something indivisible.
Everything they earned and acquired throughout their years,
From the dusty old banjo,
To their spectacular inventory,
Is and was theirs,
Not yours.
It becomes metamorphosed and repurposed during that convoluted testamentary process better known as an estate settlement.
During this time,
You will endeavor to make decisions that are both correct and beneficial,
Even though these aims don't always go hand in hand,
And tend to leave one in lonely,
Confused,
And disjointed states.
Ultimately,
The decade-long process,
From my father's death to the final days of depositions and mediation,
Was grueling,
Heartbreaking,
And liberating.
In my case,
The price of assertiveness and self-advocacy was the loss of half a dozen once lovingly close family members.
One moment they are there,
The next they are wiped out,
As if snatched away in some tragic roadside collision.
You might think the void will dissolve,
And the pain and longing for those no longer present connections will somehow be absolved by the self-justification that you have not done anything in your best consciousness to harm any of those individuals.
But deep down,
The painful realization is that you are left without those you love,
As an unintended consequence of your actions.
No wise words will remove this feeling,
No great proverbs and aphorisms will amend the damage.
No matter how happy and at peace you are with your new life,
No matter how in love,
How fortunate,
How grateful,
How much smarter and experienced you are,
How many paradigm shifts you have had,
How many reckonings and forgiveness prayers,
And no matter how many efforts you have made to reach your hand out into the empty void in an attempt to repair those severed family relationships,
They are gone,
Lost in that same abyss where missing people end up.
Then the irony rears its head,
Informing you that everything you had done to preserve the sanctity of what you felt was right and good,
Intended to make out of the most grievous loss of a family member you will never have back again in the physical,
Has now cost you six more,
Never to be heard from again,
Yet still breathing out there somewhere.
At first you might feel angry,
Betrayed even.
Then,
Likely wipe those wounds with a good slather of righteousness.
But at the end of the day,
All those emotions are just placating you,
Ultimately serving as a distraction from the deeper truths.
You come to understand that life can throw you an inequitable arrangement even as you've been aiming for fairness and impartiality all along.
That's it.
No profound takeaways,
No nuggets of insight,
Just a piece of your heart hanging in one of the corners,
No longer able to be perpetually lit like those old Christmas tree lights that flicker and fade,
Buried beneath layers of tinsel and ornaments.
But children,
What is it about blood being thicker than water?
I never did care for that expression.
It always struck me as coarse and myopic.
Yet this happens time and again.
Families,
Shredded over loyalty lines.
Allegiance to the patriarch prevails over the cousin,
The nephew disowned in deference to the matriarch,
The sibling favored over the husband,
The aunt spurned by the half-sister,
And so on.
It is a series of hard pills to swallow.
For as long as there are families,
There will be divisions,
Misinformation,
Lack of information,
Rewritten histories,
Secrets taken to the grave,
Grudges held,
Unresolved disputes,
And mysteries that will never find adequate answers to restore the absence of harmony.
Yet within this turmoil lies the possibility of growth,
Urging individuals to confront their feelings and find common ground.
At the same time,
You must move on,
Especially when you have done all you can and ruminated well beyond what is useful.
When you have taken risks,
Swallowed your pride,
And made vulnerable efforts to patch the open tears.
When you have done all of this,
It is time to press ahead.
You can cherish those occasions that once told another story,
A more heartwarmingly memorable one.
In this moment of active stillness,
You allow yourself to feel the absence and the love as if they are one,
Distant,
Most estranged,
Nostalgic,
And pure.
All fully realized and amalgamated.
A delightfully strange,
Yet pleasingly piquant and bitter cocktail of cognizance.
One that no longer needs obsessing over.
One that can have its jarring appearance but with a deeper beauty to it,
Like a wilted flower or a patch of scarred skin.
An injury that traces back so far that to fully comprehend it would feel like traversing the sands of time.
Revisionist hypotheses and a flurry of questions will remain as such,
Not knowing under certain conditions can be much more self-benefiting.
Answers can be crutches,
Making you miss the bigger picture.
They can cause you to feel things cerebrally,
When all along you were meant to resonate in a more impactful way.
One perhaps you could never anticipate,
That could serve a purpose greater than you can currently wrap your head around.
Maybe to one day reunite with one of those lost loved ones,
Making it all come full circle.
Maybe never,
But to share your story with others.
To honor the losses and give them grace.
To know that it is better to feel than to be numb,
Or if not better,
More palpable,
More alive,
Sentient.
To remain,
Even with that persistently intermittent ache,
At least I know I still care,
Love,
And believe.
The enduring truth crystallized for me,
That if I could choose to remove the wounding collateral fallout of my actions and this past,
Freeing myself from the awareness of the pain of bereavement,
I would instead choose to fully live it out this way,
Integrated sensorially into my soul's journey.
That is the present offering.
Until,
Or unless things alter,
I hold an accord toward the irreconcilable,
Not awful,
Not regretful,
Not amazing,
Nor ecstatic,
But I am good.
And I am grateful for this defined clarity,
Which allows me to bring about new beginnings and integrate the latest lessons and layers of this long lifeline.
