Let the Games Begin

So, if you hadn't already figured it out with my kvetching about bereavement fares, we've had a death in the family.

The husband's grandfather, aged eighty-four, passed away last week. In many ways this is a blessing. Grandpa hadn't been doing so well lately, and had been moved into a nursing home. He received phenomenal care, not only from the nursing home, but from the hospice organization, which helped to organize his care. (Seriously, folks, if you are, sadly, in need of a hospice for one of your loved ones, we highly recommend Odyssey Hospice. The organization is located in several states and they have bent over backward to make Grandma comfortable when she passed away this spring (they even had a harpist in to play for the patients, because hearing is one of the last senses to go. This pleased my mother-in-law to no end and helped Grandma to find peace.) and to organize Grandpa's care, even on visits to their home in the DFW metroplex. They also sent a nurse with the in-laws while they were trying to find a nursing home for him, to answer questions and help them evaluate a situation about which they knew very little. They have our sincere gratitude for making a difficult year a little better. ) But Grandpa was missing his wife of sixty-five years terribly, and he finally decided it was time to go and be with her. While he was a cantankerous soul at times---well, who am I kidding? He wasn't exactly a cuddly sort---he will nevertheless be missed.

So, while Grandpa's passing is a blessing, the time that we've been dreading has come. It's time to divvy up the estate. Fortunately, the potential fraud that I alluded to in that post never showed up. That's fortunate, but the ghouls are already at it, and have been since before Grandpa's body went cold. They've been harping on about travel costs to the funeral, which is being held in Illinois, not Arizona, where Grandma and Grandma retired, and where the ghouls had settled, as well, presumably to be closer to the cash. Apparently, they thought they shouldn't have to fork out to travel to their own father's funeral. Then we have the added joy that one of the ghouls is, apparently, worried about taxes from his inheritance, because "he just doesn't have the money to pay them," working off the assumption that the payday was going to happen right after the funeral. Evidently, there have been plenty of other rude and presumptuous statements made, but the father-in-law has chosen not to share them for fear of upsetting the applecart.

I'll repeat: I just DO NOT GET THESE PEOPLE. The funeral is on Thursday and I'm not going, but I can only imagine what it will be like. The ghouls are crass people. They are uncouth and have no class whatsoever. Undoubtedly, at the funeral they will make statements along the lines of "I can't believe how much this costs"---even though the funeral arrangements were made and paid for long ago. Undoubtedly, they will also whine about the cost of the casket, and will wonder aloud why their father needed to be buried in such an expensive box. They will comment on who is there and who isn't there, and will make foul statements about them. They will whine about how much the trip is costing them and will try and freeload meals and rooms and rides from anyone they think is responsible for paying for it (i.e. my in-laws). I'm not exaggerating about this either. They are actually this crass. If, God forbid, there actually happens to be a meeting with the lawyer about the estate, they will want checks cut, right there and then, and will whine, volubly, when the wheels of the legal system do not move as quickly as they'd like. Their life's work has been waiting for their parents to pass away so they can cash in, and now that the moment's here, it's going to get ugly if they can't get their filthy paws on what they think is owed them right away. (Particularly because one of them is, I believe, counting on it for gas money for the trip back to Arizona.) God help us when they find out that the amount they think they should get is different than what it is in actuality.

The ugliness is at the doorstep, knocking on the door, and because of the way things work, the husband's family has no choice but to open said door and let it in. All we can hope for in the meantime is that, hopefully, the ugliness is survivable.