Archive | July 5, 2016

Bring it *&&(!

Lately, I’ve been trying to finish up as executor of my mum’s estate. After completing a bunch of paperwork, file taxes, etc. I’ve had my lawyer send out the required statement of accounts and division of assets to my sisters.  My younger signed it.  My eldest sister has cut off all contact.  Not a whisper.  We’ve both called and texted, no reply.  Radio silence.  So if she doesn’t sign, that means there will be no early distribution of money. It’s a nice chunk really.    I had planned on buying a much needed family vehicle (used).  My younger sister would like to move her family out of a tiny one bedroom apartment they’ve been living in for years.  My eldest sister owns her own home, and has all her adult children living with her.  So you can see who thinks she has the upper hand.  Now the funny part is that my  mother had no intention of leaving her anything more than $500.  But she died without finalizing her will, so therefore the law requires that all assets be split 3 ways equally.  Yup.  I’ve known that for years.  Didn’t like it but there you have it.

Now I haven’t written about all the shit that she put me through with my mother’s funeral for a reason.  I just didn’t want to make a cause I was going to regret.  However, that may still happen anyway.

I suspect that my spiteful sister thinks mother should have more to be left for her.    In fact, when the first time I was told a couple years ago that Mum was going to die, that’s what she asked me.  What happened to all her money?  Never mind the fact that she has never cared to ask me about how Mum was doing for a decade; no Mother’s Day cards, no birthday cards, no flowers, no phonecalls.  Nothing on her 80th birthday.  She came twice in a decade for a week.  The first time was right after Mum was in the home.  My Uncle Cami came over from England for 2 weeks and we put them both up in my mother’s condo that she had bought just before her stroke.  My Uncle Cami loathed her.  The 2nd time she came for a week, her whole family came, made a big show of buying dinner for everyone, gave my mother suffering from dementia a digital photo frame full of pictures of them on vacation WITHOUT her.  Note to family of dementia patients:  you might want to give them pictures that they actually experienced or were included in.  Then went to Seattle  for the weekend to go shopping.  The 3rd time her own daughter had to convince her to come because we all thought she was dying and she stayed 2 days!  That’s when she dared to ask me what had happened to all the money from the sale of the condo.  I blasted her for bothering to ask me anything in a decade of neglect.  Eventually I did tell her most of the money was spent on storage fees, legal, accounting and additional personal care but the bulk of it remained.

Perhaps she objects to me charging the executor fee. Which was actually lower than what I could have charged.  She also has no idea I have to pay tax on it as well as pension deductions.   She has no idea that I never charged a dime on any of the accounting I had to do for the provincial trustee’s office on my mother’s behalf for 12 years.  It was overwhelming for me but I figured but I wanted to save her money instead of paying an accountant $100 per hour. She never spent hours and hours wading through boxes of junk that mother packed ON HER OWN before she moved. Did I mention my sister lived a 7 minute drive away from her mother?

Perhaps I’m wrong about all of this.  I’d like to be.  I really don’t know what she objects to because she hasn’t bothered to communicate what her problem is.  I already know they think I am doing all of this for the money.  I always thought that was amusing since she hasn’t contributed one dime to mother’s care.  She was never there when my mother was in hospital for 2 months crying in confusion and despair.  She was never there for all the emergency room visits, the care conferences, the funeral arrangements… she never asked how I felt when mother used to call me 20-30 times a day begging for me to take her home.  She wasn’t there to talk to when I had insomnia,  when I could barely move with swollen ovaries from fertility drugs but I still went to see my mother.  She wasn’t there when I put on a mask to visit my mum when the home had a viral outbreak.  She wasn’t there to take my mum to jazz concerts, get her hair done, comb her hair, rub her feet.   I’m sure she thinks she has a valid bone to pick with me.  I don’t care.  Cause she’s keeping it all to herself.

I vacillate between pure rage and pure pity for her.  No matter how much money she gets, it cannot replace what she never had with her mother.  It will never be enough.

Not sure who my sister think she’s dealing with.  We’re a formidable lot, the daughters of Ada, oh yes.  But if being my mother’s caretaker, infertility, depression, toddlerhood and the acting business hasn’t taken me down, what makes Big Sis think she can take me down?  I pity the fool.