closure
Today I was finally able to add my name to my father's bank account as the executor of his estate. He now has an "estate account" instead of a checking account. Wierd. This weekend I'll write checks and pay off the last of his bills - at least the ones I know about. I'll fax death certificates and the "Affidavit to Claim Personal Property" to the electric company. I'll call Social Security and make sure they've got all the paperwork they need. There's a lot to take care of when people die.
I wish they made a "So your dad died" checklist. I'd like to think I'm a reasonably intelligent woman, and I hardly even know where to start. It helps in this case because there's not much to dispose of or "claim." Still, it's hard to figure out.
When he died, I got a lot of the "circle of life" crap from friends and family. Sweet comments like "he's at peace." What I remember my dad saying is "Life is 100% fatal. As soon as you're born, you start dying." That was typical for my father. He was clever, but his jokes always had an undercurrent of ugliness and cynicism. I think that's what's the hardest to reconcile. The dad that could be rude, selfish, even mean when drinking inhabited the same body as the dad who called me pumpkin, who tied my hockey skates and told me "a girl has to work twice as hard as a boy to be considered half as good; fortunately, it's not too hard." My dad flew to Seattle to drive up the Al-Can with me in January, in a vehicle with bad brakes, because he was worried about me.
I know that my relationship with my dad was different than my siblings. I hope that they each have good memories to keep, and can let go of the bad ones. My dad did a lot of damage to each of us over the years, but he loved us as much as he possibly could. He was proud of my brother and sister - it was obvious every time I talked to him. He loved my sister in law unconditionally. She was the only one that he would really open up to, I think. He missed my little sister and it haunted him that they weren't close. He talked to me about that quite a bit, especially in the past year or so. I think he always felt he'd let her down and just didn't know how to say he was sorry. My brother was his hope -I think he saw that Mitch lived a full, good, active life. Mitch continued all the habits he and my dad loved: snowmachining, fishing, hunting. My bro is a good father, and my dad recognized that and was proud.
I always wonder if my dad said to my siblings the things he said to me about them? I wonder if, and hope that, they can forgive him for his many faults and feel peace knowing how much he loved each of them? I wonder if he ever told his mom and dad, or his sisters, how he felt? He talked to me about everyone who was important to him, and it makes me sad to think he might not have told them.
If this was an inspirational column, I'd now say something like "Knowing all I know, and recognizing that death comes suddenly, make the most of each day. Tell the people you love how you feel. Smell the roses. Carpe diem." Instead, I'll type a blog, think my thoughts, worry about my family and most likely keep living just as I always have. I know I have a lot of the same faults he had. That should scare me, and maybe it does. Then again......
I wish they made a "So your dad died" checklist. I'd like to think I'm a reasonably intelligent woman, and I hardly even know where to start. It helps in this case because there's not much to dispose of or "claim." Still, it's hard to figure out.
When he died, I got a lot of the "circle of life" crap from friends and family. Sweet comments like "he's at peace." What I remember my dad saying is "Life is 100% fatal. As soon as you're born, you start dying." That was typical for my father. He was clever, but his jokes always had an undercurrent of ugliness and cynicism. I think that's what's the hardest to reconcile. The dad that could be rude, selfish, even mean when drinking inhabited the same body as the dad who called me pumpkin, who tied my hockey skates and told me "a girl has to work twice as hard as a boy to be considered half as good; fortunately, it's not too hard." My dad flew to Seattle to drive up the Al-Can with me in January, in a vehicle with bad brakes, because he was worried about me.
I know that my relationship with my dad was different than my siblings. I hope that they each have good memories to keep, and can let go of the bad ones. My dad did a lot of damage to each of us over the years, but he loved us as much as he possibly could. He was proud of my brother and sister - it was obvious every time I talked to him. He loved my sister in law unconditionally. She was the only one that he would really open up to, I think. He missed my little sister and it haunted him that they weren't close. He talked to me about that quite a bit, especially in the past year or so. I think he always felt he'd let her down and just didn't know how to say he was sorry. My brother was his hope -I think he saw that Mitch lived a full, good, active life. Mitch continued all the habits he and my dad loved: snowmachining, fishing, hunting. My bro is a good father, and my dad recognized that and was proud.
I always wonder if my dad said to my siblings the things he said to me about them? I wonder if, and hope that, they can forgive him for his many faults and feel peace knowing how much he loved each of them? I wonder if he ever told his mom and dad, or his sisters, how he felt? He talked to me about everyone who was important to him, and it makes me sad to think he might not have told them.
If this was an inspirational column, I'd now say something like "Knowing all I know, and recognizing that death comes suddenly, make the most of each day. Tell the people you love how you feel. Smell the roses. Carpe diem." Instead, I'll type a blog, think my thoughts, worry about my family and most likely keep living just as I always have. I know I have a lot of the same faults he had. That should scare me, and maybe it does. Then again......
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