Death, Taxes and a Little Blood

On a good month, I'm a realtor juggling at least three or four dead peoples' houses. Not in the air, but definitely juggling. I've got people grieving, fighting, complaining, worrying and trying to kill each other. Just last month I found myself in the middle of a domestic fight, with glass jars, picture frames and Buddha figurines being lofted in my (and mostly my client's) general direction. When furniture started making flight paths across the living room and then the yard, I decided it was prudent to meet elsewhere (ya think?!) With blood flowing (ever so lightly) from my left foot, I pulled my car away from the curb and thought I might want to write a book. I could be the James Herriot of Realtors. Write little vignettes about houses, clients, closings, murders. There's just so much good material. But then again, if the book didn't take off, I certainly couldn't keep doing real estate. Who would sign up with a Realtor who was going to expose and detail all that family drama? 

In all seriousness, however, I have learned much from these histrionics. Number one, get out a legal pad and detail who is getting what, who's doing what and then decide what they are going to sing at your funeral. Do it now. Then get a competent lawyer to draw up a will. Better yet, give everybody the stuff you want to give them. Now, not when you're dead. Then you get to see them enjoy it. Or not. Why are you hanging on to all that anyway? Number two, clean out all the junk out of your house. I don't care if you are twenty-nine or a hundred and nine, it's evil to make other people clean up your mess, especially when they're grieving and fighting with your relatives. A beautiful gift you can give them (and yourself) is to minimize your stuff. There are folks that will come and pick it up or throw it out for you. I do estates all the time and guess what? Most people really don't want your refuse, even if you think it's valuable. These young people might want that furniture, but they're just going to cover it with chalk paint and sell it on Craigslist. I'm no minimalist, but our paraphernalia is crowding out our brain cells. 

Lastly. Let go. None of us need to expect that Aunt May is leaving us a million dollars. We need to learn to work hard to make our own way. If there's two nickels to rub together, people lose their minds and do awful things to each other in the name of fairness and getting "what's rightfully mine." Whole families fall apart over all the little bits and pieces that are left after someone departs. Yes, I know, some of it's not little. It still ain't all there is, folks. There are larger things at play in the universe than our tiny patch of earth or our big treasure chests. Peoples' souls and hearts matter so much more than their trappings. And it's tragic to forget that, just when our lives are stripped bare by a death. Someone is going to act horrible, but that doesn't mean we have to.