These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
Monday, April 08, 2013
Sad, sad, sad and not sleeping
First I let my kid sister's tantrum ruin my Easter and cast a pall over my vacation. And now it continues.
I had wanted to take care of my mother's grave marker myself. I didn't care how it looked. I didn't care what it said. But I wanted to pay for it myself. I have always spent a portion of my tax refund on my mother. I wanted to do it one last time. My way of saying a final goodbye. I explained this to my sister.
It came up because she had $600 in her checking account that people gave us as gifts at our mother's service and $1000 in cash from the estate sale. She was upset about the checking account because she was afraid FAFSA would ding my niece for it and reduce the federal aid. I told her that, since she is the one who would visit our mother's grave the most, she should choose the headstone and use the $600 as a downpayment. The government could not possibly question the funds then -- not if the check was made out to funeral home. Then I'd pay the balance.
Instead she went and took care of it all herself. Paid the entire $1300 out of the $1600 in her possession. When I asked her (via email) why she did this, she responded that I could just handle the bookkeeping any way I wished. Meaning that I can take the money I had intended to spend on my mom and put it toward final legal fees. Or perhaps, I guess, that dumpster.
It was a petty, crappy thing to do. And it hurt me.
I feel alone and old and sad. What happens to all my "stuff" when I die? My sisters resent and hate me. I don't know why, exactly. The only comfort is that they resent and hate one another, too.
My niece is 20. I know she loves me, and I should do a better job of keeping up with her. But she's young. I don't want her to feel overwhelmed or trapped in a tug of war between her mother and me.
I'm sad, sad, sad today.
AND IT'S OPENING DAY AT WRIGLEY FIELD! Not fair.