the papers

A few days ago I got a hankering to hear Shawn Coombs tribute to Big—based on the Police’s “I’ll Be Watching You.” Now I was never a fan of Biggie Smalls, [in fact, I’d never really heard of him until he was shot]--I’m not much into rap except for Eminem and Kid Rock, but one day in the desert that my life had become after BABNDM (before-and-after-but-not-during-marriage boyfriend) and I broke up [well, truthfully, he left and I broke up], but back to the story, I opened my back door to find a CD laying on the porch and it was that one. So I threw it in the player, and there was that song “I’ll be missing you,” and I hoped it was from BABNDM and not from another guy who at the time liked me better than I liked him. This was just like BABNDM—to do something that would forever leave me wondering—was it him and chock full of meaning, or a nothing-to- get-excited-about thing.

Anyway, the other day, I found it amongst my somewhat alphabetically arranged CDs and played it in the car and then realized that as of June third this year, it has been 10 years since BABNDM died of a massive, sudden, fatal heart attack. And it was June third, the day that I found and played that CD. And hearing it gave me a only a completely manageable nostalgia to hear it—not crippling sorrow like before.

I’ve been busy, recovering from some dental crap that I allowed to happen against my better judgment. I had a bad feeling going into it and predictably it WAS tough to get over it and took much longer than it should have, has made me HATE yogurt although it’s the only thing that it doesn’t hurt to eat, and cost me a week away from work so last week was really tough, getting caught up. But normality is visible in the distance now, and I lost a few pounds and now have jeans I can wear even while sitting down which makes the whole thing almost worth it.

I also caused and conducted a World War III with my two sisty uglers—we exchanged many e-mails full of resentment (mine) and ignorance (theirs)—apparently they were not aware over the last 18 months that I needed help with errand-running and such having to do with maintenance of my mother’s house and garden and weekly visits to her in the assisted living place where she now resides. They felt it would be easier for my mother to adjust to her new life situation without them occasionally visiting her—wouldn’t that just remind her of all she’d lost and reopen the wound?—I was of the opinion that only interaction with people she loved would enable her to maintain her personality—if I have to be the only one involved, I wanted her to still be the mother I knew (and complained about for my entire life, to be sure, but still . . . ) and not the empty shell that some of the residents there appear to be. However, since they disagreed with that theory, and had resentments of their own against my mother—they ignored her and had not visited with her since November 2008.

They awoke from their stupor six months ago when I removed my mother’s important papers [property deeds, etc.] from a safety deposit box at a bank she no longer used, and since she didn’t have a safety deposit box at her new bank, and it was not open on weekends and I cannot get to her town on the weekdays because I am at work on those days, I put the papers into my safety deposit box at my bank and e-mailed them about that.

Oh my goodness, this woke them up, let me tell you. How dare I do such a thing, I was trying to keep these papers from them and that is ILLEGAL [we are all three named on a durable power of attorney]. I said fine, one of you open a safety deposit box in her new bank just to show you’re willing to do SOMETHING, and I’ll put the papers in there. I didn’t hear from them again, and I completely forgot about the papers until a week or so ago when they discovered I had not opened a safety deposit box in the new bank, and again they wrote me saying this is ILLEGAL and I’m trying to keep them out of her affairs.

So I took another day off work and opened a box in my mother’s new bank, put the papers there and e-mailed them when that was done so they could go there and sign for their keys to it [and if they had time, to please F themselves]. They got right on that and went there the very next morning [I doubt that they Fd themselves as instructed though]. And then in a flurry of e-mails, I completely emptied myself of all my resentment toward them and they responded with surprise at my anger. The final message from me was to let me know when they have questions or concerns and I will answer—but not to wait until I’m not angry anymore because that is a state I never expect to attain again. Our relationship as sisters is over but at its best, it was never good anyway. It is not a loss to me but a relief.