Memories Monday -- Where There's a Wedding, There Has to Be a Will

After assuring me that “they probably won’t get married,” Ed sat down at the kitchen table and worked out the dynamics of the situation.

“Allison is down one grandmother and we are up one.  The grandfathers stay the same.  Allison will inherit from my dad and mom and Kate and Tony's parents.  We’ll inherit from Dad and Mom and Kate and your dad and Missy.  Missy would inherit when he dies.   Her kids could get everything, unless he makes some provisions.”

“But that’s just if my father goes first.”

"If Missy dies first, your father would get everything.  But when he goes, it will be us and Mike and Rachael.   Allison is out of the loop with your dad’s money, of course.  But then, she has her in-laws."

I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation.  And I couldn’t believe what I said next.

“Maybe Allison will be so nasty that your mother and Kate will cut her out of their wills.”

“Allison would probably sue.”

I imagined headlines, “Court Battle Over Damned Gay Grandma’s Will,” with a retelling of the whole story of Cilla’s aborted conversion to Catholicism.  But that wouldn’t be for years and years.

Unfortunately, Cilla had been standing outside the door and she started to cry.  “I don’t want Grandma to die!”

“She’s not going to die, at least not for a long time.”

“But she will, one day.”

“Well, yes . . .”

“And we’ll all die one day.  You and Daddy and Grandpa Jack and Grandpa Doug and Grandma Kate and Betsey and Josh and me.”  She started crying again.  Then she got mad.  “Why do people have to die?  Betsey was right.  I don’t like God.”

I thought of Woody Allen in Hannah and Her Sisters and started to feel some twinges myself.  Wasn’t Cilla a little young for this?  But at least she had the certainty of Heaven.  The Unitarians said that no one knew anything about what happened when you died and you got the impression that the adults didn’t think there was anything.  My friends and I agreed that they were wrong, which was fine with them because everyone is entitled to his or her opinion.

“But, just think, we’ll all be together in Heaven.  You get to be with your whole family, even those you never met.”

Ed muttered something that sounded like, “But where do you go if you’ve been good?”  I kicked him under the table.

I reminded Cilla that you never have to go to bed in Heaven and that she could meet the Blessed Virgin Mother.

“Mommy can bake cookies with her.”  Ed was on a roll again.  “Or maybe with Joan of Arc.”  Fortunately that went over Cilla’s head.  “Or we could have a barbecue with her.”

Cilla wanted to know what kind of cookies they had in Heaven.  “Any kind you want.”  Then, fortunately, it was time for her to go to bed.

Ed remarked that we were proof that couples started turning into each other, except why was he talking about things that would probably never happen as if they would when I still didn’t like baseball?

I woke up in the middle of the night, remembering that we had forgotten something.

What about DeeDee?