Fading from Memory

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Tuesday 2 June 2009

The end game

By Mike on Tuesday 2 June 2009, 16:35 - Journal

The last few months have been spent, in part, slowly working through the process of tidying up.

All the known major investments, insurance policies and accounts have been, or are very close to being, liquidated and consolidated in the one bank account. Only mum and dad's UK premium bonds, which amount to a mere 36 pounds, are still outstanding, and I am in the process of searching for old bank accounts in the UK, those we may never have heard of, through www.mylostaccount.org.uk.

The house has just been sold for a good price, within four days of being on the market, and despite the deep economic trough we keep hearing about. I am sure that the improvements Greg organised for the house were very instrumental in facilitating the sale. We had tenants in residence for just a few months, but it seems that one or more of them wanted to leave and the remaining one couldn't afford the place on his own. He asked to terminate his lease early and, given the difficulty we had had getting regular rent payments from him and his co-tenants, we agreed quite readily. We were rather unimpressed, to be honest, not least with their casual attitude to mail intended for mum and dad. Some of it appears to have been just thrown away, and at least one letter was used as notepaper.

When we hired a solicitor to do the conveyancing we also asked him to look after the application for a grant of probate. How this works in Australia is, I imagine, fairly similar to how it works in other countries. If the estate is significant enough, or if the wills are sufficiently complex (or non-existent), then the administration of the will must be granted by a clerk of the supreme court. Greg and I, as executors, have had to apply for this power to be granted to us before we can dispose of the house. The completion of the sale is therefore now hanging on us having probate completed. There was been one hiccup in the process, however. When we had a codicil added to mum's will, the family lawyer took the original for safe keeping, and provided me with a copy. Since then, he retired and passed his practice in toto to another law firm. When our solicitor contacted them to ask for the codicil they reported that they were unable to find it! Now, providing everyone plays sensibly, we should be able to get this sorted out, since no beneficiaries were changed, only the names of the executors, and for very transparent and understandable reasons (Derek being in the UK, Greg and I being here). However, it does complicate the process, requiring additional explanations to be written, evaluated, acceded to, and then acted upon, best case.


Despite this, from what I hear of others who have been in a similar situation, we are having a dream run with this process.

In the middle of these considerations, mum's 87th birthday came and went, in April. I remembered on the day, unlike last year, and wondered what was appropriate. Nothing, really. There's no grave to attend, no spouse to call, or anything like that.


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Wednesday 7 January 2009

Forward

By Mike on Wednesday 7 January 2009, 22:51 - Journal

Mum's death certificate arrived today and, you would not believe it, there are errors in it! Someone has very helpfully expanded the initials of the nursing home - incorrectly, twice. I think this is minor, but it leaves me shaking my head. Doesn't anybody every check their work?

The other silly thing is that the letter was delivered to my P O Box, just as I had requested. But at about Christmas the undertaker called me to say that the Registry had told her that they needed another address, as they would not deliver to a P O Box. I gave her the street address the Registry already had for me - as informant. I often think of Monty Python at these times.

The summer holiday doldrums are coming to an end in Australia. People are getting back to work and many of the usual summer entertainments are now over. It seemed a particularly long and enpty time for me this year. I never like it, but this year I felt particularly listless. I doubt that this has much to do with my parents, though I am ready to accept that it might. It is just that I do not miss them at all. Dad has been dead four months now and, as for mum, there was not much to miss, to be bluntly candid about it.

Anyway, being in possession of the second death certificate means I am now able to make forward progress on sorting out the estates. I took all paperwork files relating to my parents in to my office today, as it is much easier to do this kind of work there. One of the things I did in 2008 was throw out my computer printer at home. I'd had it for about 14 years and found that I no longer used it - the ones in the office do a much better job.

If things continue like this there will be little to add to this blog. I haven't stopped thinking about my parents but there is not much to add. They are gone. We are left to tidy up their affairs. We shall do so.

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Thursday 18 December 2008

New phase

By Mike on Thursday 18 December 2008, 20:17 - Journal

This weblog now enters a new phase, as the final act involving my mother took place today.

We had the funeral in the same chapel and in much the same clear weather conditions as for dad's funeral. There were some differences. It is a much hotter time of year now, and standing in the sun in a suit was not comfortable, not for long, anyway. The music was the same as for dad. The flowers were different, slightly, including irises this time. There were flowers from Bob, mum's brother, and from a close friend of mine, also containing irises. The coffin was white, not wood. And three of the family spoke.

Derek's wife Janet read a hymn which had been sung at our grandmother Annie's funeral in 1963, and then talked about her early experiences as a daughter-in-law, and the help and welcome she received from our mother. Then Rachel spoke, and described mum very well, covering her early life, meeting our father, leaving England, raising, in effect, two families and travelling all over the world. And last, I read the messages, not just those that have been received for mum, but also those for dad, most of which came in too late, and which we were just not in the right frame of mine to read back then.

I found it harder to read the messages that I expected. I had read them several times over to myself in preparation, but at the time, after having listened to Rachel's very affecting talk, I heard my voice faltering at times. However, it was good to have made the thoughts of family and friends public. I do think dad deserved it too, even though it was not his occasion today. I think we are all much more in possession of ourselves and able to determine what needs to be done, and how, this time.

There were fewer people at the funeral than last time; fewer from the church, and no family friends. When, mid-reading, I looked up at the congregation I was surprised at how small a gathering it was. We had expected staff from the retirement village to attend but in the event they were unable to.

Rachel has produced an order of service, using a photograph of mum taken on 17th April 2003 - both her 81st birthday and mum and dad's 60th wedding anniversary. For that event, we had received telegrams from Queen Elizabeth and several dignitries, the Governor-General, the Governor, the Prime Minister, the Premier and the local Member of Parliament. I'd presented mum with a bound first edition of the family history. We drank three champagnes, three different whites, three reds, and five dessert wines. But, really, all mum cared about was that everyone was there, all of the family who were there again today.

Afterwards we all went back to Greg and Regan's place, and had lunch sitting out on the deck overlooking the bay. None of us appear to be functioning in any way different from how we normally would. Life really does go on. I was interested to hear Derek reminisce about our mother's mother's funeral, the one I mentioned earlier. Several of our Irish relatives came across from Belfast, and some from where they were living in Southport. They surprised Derek by having no reserve, they were as familiar with him as they were with each other. One grabbed a clothes-brush and brushed at Derek's jacket.

I left after lunch. A bad night's sleep last night and too much wine the day before had given me a strong need to get horizontal. I came home and slept from 3 pm to 6:30. It is now time to start thinking about dinner and feeding the cats, both of whom outlived both my parents - something I didn't expect to happen.

Tomorrow we are all going to a restaurant high on a hill-top overlooking the Pacific. We went there after dad's funeral. Then, on Saturday, we are having Christmas dinner together - the first time since 1992, when Cassie's birth was still six years in the future.

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Saturday 13 December 2008

Together

By Mike on Saturday 13 December 2008, 13:35 - Journal

It's odd how things turn out.

Rachel and I met with the undertaker, in the same room, round the same table, as we had fourteen weeks ago. We knew the drill. The undertaker was a different woman, much more matter of fact and business-like. The goal seemed to be to get things done nicely, rather than to mourn, and this seemed suitable to the occasion. We even joked several times.

The funeral is scheduled for 9:45 am on Thursday, and will be held in the same chapel we had for dad, and the service will be conducted by the same minister, who remembers mum from her church-going days. Derek and his family are flying out here again, and will be here for four or five days. Mum's brother Bob sent flowers. I feel very sorry for him; I am sure he would want to be here but he is not young either and has an ailing wife to tend to.

My mood over the last few days has been, bizarrely, quite cheerful. I've had a lot to do, both as a result of mum's death and simply because the rest of life doesn't stop on these occasions, but I've been up each morning, unweighed by misery or sorrow, and able to function quite normally. Yesterday was marked by torrential rain. I had to make several car trips and got soaked several times. It could have been an opportunity to read all sorts of pathetic fallacy into the story, but it was not. I have a real sense now of being able to move on, and I think that, when looked at objectively, this is exactly what this time is: a time to move on.

I am very heartened by the messages that have come in as comments and private emails since my last post. These are from people I have never met, but whose parallel lives have helped set mine in context at times, and whose comments over the years have added new insights into the process that none of us is ever really prepared for. Towards the end I found my preoccupation with our own family's experience precluded keeping a daily check on those of others, but it had always been good to know that someone somewhere understood something of what we were going through.

Our cousins have also been sending us their thoughts. They nearly all mention the timing. It is odd to think of mum and dad being together for so many decades and then leaving so soon one after the other. I am sure that the double blow of this year is not what anyone would have expected, and certainly not hoped for. At this time I am glad it has happened this way. There have been times when I have looked at mum, wimpering and fidgeting in mute anxious frustration and thought that this is just not worth prolonging. We had to do all we could, as her life was as sacred as any, but now that it is over, and we are still dealing with dad's death, it is satisfying that we can think of them as dying together, as they were for most of their lives.

Greg contacted the people at the crematorium, who have still not done anything with dad's ashes, and asked them to hold them until they have mum's too, and then we shall decide what to do about both. Despite my earlier avowed indifference to the matter, I think there is something good about this, too. I am not sure what, yet, but I am sure it is the right thing to do.

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