Yesterday I wrote to the probate manager, asking why I was made to apologise to someone who has taken some of my mother's most personal possessions away, when they had belonged to me to begin with. II thought I was tackling the problem in bringing this up but he may just make things more awkward and drag the process out longer just because he can. I realise that I have made myself more vulnerable now. I might have mentioned a lot of things in the letter I shouldn't oughta. . I'd had enough. I'd tried to be mature about it for a long time and I'd tried to co-operate. But I had felt unfairly attacked.
I realised that the way I have been treated reflects the way a lot of people think about wills. The probate manager was making me feel his personal opinion about the will, basically that he personally would never have chosen someone like me as a co-executor. , I realise now from the beginning he had been letting me know what he thought, loud and clear. And there are a number of people, the beneficiaries, who feel the same. That's what I'm up against. It wasn't a nice message but at least we know where we stand. They shouldn't be doing that but they are, because they can, because there is no one to defend me. I realise I'm getting divorced from quite a few people! There are lots of similarities between probate and a divorce. Acrimony -check. Arguments about possessions and belongings - check. People outside the situation taking sides -check - in my case, including the probate manager. Long slow legal process - check.
What kind of person will I be once this is over, I wonder? Will I still be me? Will I be a raspy-voiced gin-swilling divorcee throwing a post-probate party? Will I still have my faith in human nature? And will it ever be over? It's not over until I forget my Mum. And I'll never do that.
