In Retrospect

Fulcrum:  A crux or pivot; a central point.

A few years ago my sister and I decided to buy my parents a new TV as a house-warming gift. Total cost: the princely sum of $200, split two ways - you do the math.  I ordered the TV, paid for it with my credit card, and arranged for it to be delivered to their new apartment.  My sister never paid me for her half even though she accepted my parent's thanks as if she did, even joking about it a few times with me.  I let the debt slide, eventually, unwilling to let that small amount get too far into my hear, eventually getting my revenge a few years later when one of my nieces sent me a letter asking if I'd contribute to some kind of charitable cause she was involved with.  I told my sister, via email, to just go ahead and give her daughter the $100 that she owed me and we'd call it even.  I do not know if that ever took place.  I doubt it.  I never heard a word from my niece and she's a pretty polite girl.

Other than that I have never been given the slightest reason to suspect that my sister is anything but honest with money.  I'm the executor of my parents' estate and my sister and I understand - and agree - that my parents' wish is for everything that remains to be divided equally.  And as the executor I'm sort of the fulcrum for the whole process and I don't even know what a fulcrum is.

Still, in this time of stress, my head wanders off into swampy places.  She was there with my dad as he declined.  She had gotten authority to write checks out of one of their accounts (and thank god for that - my dad was in no shape to stay on top of the few bills that came due) and she used their credit card to buy stuff dad needed, like beer and vodka.  Tired, stressed, my head began to run the show.  A few days earlier she had called to ask it if made sense to transfer money into her own checking account from theirs so that she could pay bills.  This made a lot of sense - dad was accruing medical bills and once he died his money would be tied up until the estate made it through probate.

For about 18 hours I worked myself into a frenzy of anxiety, imagining that I'd never see my half. Remind you, I had no reason to believe this beyond fantasies arising from emotional strain and physical exhaustion.  Moreover, we were on the hook for a good chunk of money for the funeral, the final month's rent on the apartment, and his remaining medical bills, all of which would come out of this account.  More-moreover, if my worst fears came to pass my life would change not one whit.  It wasn't enough money to worry about.

The next day when she came over I asked if we could sit down and talk about a few things, in between the church rummage sale ladies and the furniture movers.  I told her that I was proud of her, that she had done so much for my father at the end while I was lolling in the sun in Vacation City - she was on the firing line and I was grateful for that every day, knowing that dad had an advocate.  I told her that she had done a great job raising two wonderful kids.  And I asked: "We're on the same page with the money, right?"  I believe neither of us wanted or expected to see a penny of my parents' money - I would have been thrilled if mom had called to tell me they were charting a private jet to fly to Sicily.  I would have loved it.  We talked about things until the next appointment needed to be kept.  I'm embarrassed that I had to bring it up but glad that I did - maybe she was thinking the same thing about me, who knows?

Everything is fine.  As I knew it was going to be. 

My head is not my friend.