#51 Two for me, one for you

For years, probably for as long as we have been old enough to understand the concept, Eric and I have joked about who would inherit what. Well, actually we joked about who would inherit and who would not. He was always trying to get me out of the will.

When he helped my parents move my great-grandmother’s enormous (and gorgeous) breakfront into their house, he decided it was so heavy that he never wanted to move it again; so I could have it. I think that’s the only thing he’s ever willingly given up. He did claim all the china inside.

He would try and call first on my parents’ birthdays and would always tell them flat out that he loved them more. He had no qualms about that at all.

Six years ago my father’s mother died. He and his sister had to go through her apartment and decide what to keep and what to donate. This past fall my mother’s mother moved to an assisted living facility. Again, her apartment had to be sorted. This time some of her things went to her, some to various family members, and some to donate.

My grandmother had an old set of Wedgewood china that she adored, but had no use for anymore. She offered it to me, but I already have a set of china that I never use from when I got married. She sent it to Eric. Now I have it.

My parents and Eric’s girlfriend and I had to go through his apartment. He didn’t have as many years to accumulate stuff, but he still had plenty. It was a task we never thought we would have to take on. We donated his suit of armor (miniature—and also from my grandmother) to a middle school that had a collection of armor. We could find no use for his theatre chairs, so they too were donated. We also took a lot of stuff, probably too much, but we couldn’t help ourselves.

Someday, hopefully not for a very long time, I’ll have to go through my parent’s house. If I want it, it will all be mine.

This is not how I wanted to cheat him out of his inheritance.