I got a call from the treasury office and they gave me good news and bad news.
First, the good news: she kept saying “checks.” That means it’s not clothes! HALLELUJAH, BABY!!!! No dealing with bodily fluids of a beloved, long-dead brother.
The bad news: After almost 11 years, Dan’s estate is still technically open! The creditors have all settled accounts and would have done so within a year of the probate, but the final paperwork was never filed.
Me, banging my head against the table.
Several months ago I found there was “unclaimed property” from Dan’s estate.
There was a bunch of paperwork involved, but I filled things out and sent it off to the State Treasurer. Sixty days later, I got a form in the mail. More paperwork was needed.
The first thing I had to have was a copy of the probated will. Easier said than done because I am not in the same state where Dan lived and died. There was information online for how to go about getting the copy, but since I had no idea how many pages it was, I was unable to send payment. It was difficult to get that piece of information. I was finally able contact the probate officer through email. She was very nice and was able to give me the information needed. Continue reading
During my waking hours, I’ve been getting phone calls from private or unknown numbers and those calls feed into a dream series, as has Dan’s death.
I’ve had these recurring dreams about Dan. When you miss someone, that’s not unusual, but this is what’s been happening:
I dream Dan is alive and has been in hiding somewhere. Life got to be too much and he walked away. Somehow he faked his death. How doesn’t matter and I never ask.
Dan decides to get in touch. It’s Dan who’s been calling and he’s more than just a bit annoyed that I’ve been blocking the unidentified callers. How does he finally get through? I don’t know; it’s a dream, not a logical, daytime occurrence!
2017 sucked … and not well. Let’s forget the whole politics/Republican jackasses in Congress/racism/tax cut for the wealthy/Trump vs. women, immigrants, Constitution, etc., etc., but pro-Russia/ad nauseum disaster portions of the year.
Every year that passes, I feel like I lose more of you. This year I lost two major pieces of you, but in an odd way, I gained a piece, too.
First, what I lost: three of my rock gods.
My mom spanked a squirrel.
This memory re-emerged several days ago and then reasserted itself again this morning.
Mom takes a nice little handful of pills in the morning. Most mornings, one pill will miss her mouth. I tell her not to take them all at once, but ignoring me has become her favorite pastime. Whatever.
This morning, she used both hands to push the pills into her mouth and I laughed. So as not to seem rude, I told her about her past with squirrels.