This is a discussion I avoid at almost all costs. Money. Yet I am surrounded by it.
Literally. By way of my profession.
My family was wealthy. So now that they are gone, I am left with a mess. It's not a mess to most people but rather an inheritance. I have now stood up the estate attorney four times. I make the appointment and then I don't go. His office assistant drives me crazy. She probably is a pretty nice person and she probably wouldn't drive me crazy if I showed up for appointments.
I get in my car. I drive down the freeway. I have even made it to his office. And then I break out into a cold sweat, my head begins to spin, and my heart pounds with the anticipation of finality. And then I leave. I just can't do it. I can't go in and legally acknowledge what has happened.
My family is gone. A family that I never quite had in the first place. So if I never had them, did I really loose them at all? Perhaps my loss is bigger, even different than just their physical presence. My loss was the chance for a caring mother; a loving father; a best friend for a sister. I never had these things. But I hoped for them. I begged for them. I even prayed for them.
Well meaning people offer me encouragement and ideas for what to do with these funds. I nod my head and listen but each idea hits a dead spot in my brain and travels to a broken part of my heart. Money doesn't make this better. And while this would be a welcome addition for most; it is a painful insult to my own existence because I did not die.
I survived and they did not. And for walking through hell I get the prize. When I sign those papers I will make this official. The black and white proof of their end and perhaps my own twisted beginning. I want to say that this is good.
But all I feel is that money makes a dirty and really shitty band-aid.
“Shall I Crucify Your King?” #UNITE Linky
22 hours ago