My aunt had no will, but stated to many what her final wishes were. Because she had no will, I, who she wanted to handle all of the material possessions and final arrangements, cannot do that. Within minutes of her death being called in the field by the EMT's, I was asked for the keys and her wallet. I was also told that I didn't have to stay and I could go ahead and leave. The EMT's looked at me as I explained, "Um, I was here when she died. I'm sure that I'm not supposed to leave quite yet." :EMT shaking head: They wanted to start ransacking the joint before she had even lost warmth.
Who is they? That would be Bill and his wife.
He kept asking, "Amy, where is the box?" He wanted a silver box that were to contain Aunt Donna's final papers.
I don't have the box.
He's called friends. They've called me and said that they were asked, "Where's the box?"
The box questions have ended. Frankly, I think that in the ransacking of the apartment, he found the cash stashes that he was looking for. All of the blank check books are gone. I have concern about that, but handled the things at the bank as Aunt Donna instructed me to.
It is one steaming pile of poo. It's not how Aunt Donna wanted things handled. She wanted my sister and I to handle everything and wanted her brother to have nothing and yet because she failed to state her wishes legally, he will take and take.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not here with my hand out. I care nothing about physical possessions. He can have at it with the medical equipment, used lift chair and the Golden Girls couch. What bothers me is that I know that Aunt Donna wanted these things to be handled not just as thrift possessions, but as the life possessions that she had amassed and as such, she wanted good things to happen to them/with them.
She would give anything she had to anyone.
She would share anything she had with anyone.
We knew that that's what she wanted done. Instead, I come in to a bedroom that was ransacked for cash. I get occasional calls about the missing bilfold she had.
The woman had very little and yet what she had is being amassed in a pile of gambling driven greed.
"Oh, I know that she wanted to have trusts put up for all the kids and that WILL be done." What kind of idiot do you think I am?
I was with her at the very end. I was present for her last breath. I called 911-- twice. I relayed info from her, then about her. I, despite her size, still tried to roll her over to do CPR. I dragged furniture and dead mobility scooters out of the way with the EMTs. I watched them try to revive her. I went down 7 floors to let the additional engine company come in to help lift her lifeless body. I was there when her time of death was called in the field. I was questioned by the EMT's. I was questioned by the police. I didn't panic. I wasn't hysterical. I did what I had to do. It's with that that I can walk away and know that though not in death, but in life I did all I could do for her. I rest knowing that the promise that I made to my grandmother while she was on her deathbed was that I would take care of Aunt Donna. Within 10 minutes of being told that, her labored breathing had slowed and she went home to be with the Lord. I carried out my promise and know that I made two women as happy as I could.
With this, that's all that matters. God's will, as I had prayed it, was done. Aunt Donna felt no pain. She was not suffering. Her heart stopped and she just stopped being. It was peaceful and it was like she just fell asleep. I could have asked for nothing else for her.
Now we're left to grieve. I haven't been able to do that before today. I've been on auto pilot. K-, on the other hand, has moments where she just crumbles and cries. You see, K- and Aunt Donna had been two peas in their own pod from the time K- was 4 days old. The two went toodling on Aunt Donna's scooter, then when old enough, they would run races in the parking lot. Aunt Donna would be on her scooter and K- would be on foot. K- finally got big enough and fast enough that Aunt Donna, scooter full throttle, would have to cheat and sneak in between cars. All the ladies in the building know her and she would hang and sometimes try to help them with their puzzles. She was the mail retriever. Aunt Donna had taken her for so many years that finally she was old enough to go the 7 floors down, get the mail and come back up. Aunt Donna would scooter over with sidewalk chalk and cherry tomatoes for K-. She'd sometimes scooter over while I was at work and leave a bag of Aunt Donna offerings on the door.
Life just isn't going to be the same without the old girl.