Trip With Mom, Part 3

We met up with folks for a farmer’s breakfast before heading to the border. 4 minutes after ordering, mom said: I can’t imagine what’s taking so long.” Tim turned to her and said: It’s been no time at all.” And then turned back to the person on his other side, continuing his conversation. Mom didn’t object. I was impressed.

After our meal, we collected our bags, checked out and hit the road. With amusement trying to figure out kilometers per hour, which my German car doesn’t give me a clue about, we settled at a speed that would not excite local law enforcement and enjoyed looking at the landscape.
Once across the border, mom wanted to stop. So did I. I needed her to sign documents that were the final ‘sealing’ of her estate and it needed to be done in front of a notary. I carefully and simply explained what the documents were for. She immediately said this was very prudent and how grateful she was that I was ‘on’ these details. In the next 30 miles she asked me 5 times why we needed to sign the documents. Each time I gave her the same simple answer and she got it again. However a bunch of other things seemed to break loose:
     * She asked if she had a recent will. I reminded her she did. She said she didn’t have a copy. I reminded her she did, at her mainland home. I ended up telling her what the straightforward contents of her will are.
     * In her will she leaves a modest bequest to my paternal uncle, whom she hates. I recalled to her that she made this choice because she thought it would be important to my dad, as my uncle spent so much time taking care of their father in his last days, during which my father was too sick to help. In the next breath, mom said: Oh, dad left 12 grand to your uncle in his will.” I had to correct her memory. This was a complete fabrication on her part. 
     * She also, for the zillionth time, stated that she made the bequest to my uncle to keep him off her back. Meaning that he wouldn’t challenge her will. I can’t keep track of how many times I’ve explained that her (and probably most) wills have boilerplate verbiage stating that: Any fool who challenges my will gets Diddley-Shit!” This is a decades old conversation.
     * Mom brought up, again, the idea of moving her pension direct deposit to her well stocked Island bank. This is something I give lip service to and then let go of. Mom needs amazing amounts of cash in her checking accounts to feel secure. It’s been a project to get her to open savings accounts to house funds. Her pension deposits into the checking account I use to pay bills on her Mainland house. It’s brilliant. The savings account associated with this operating account is growing by leaps and bounds because I keep stuffing money into it. When she brought this up again, I suggested she get ahold of her HR dept, have them send her a new direct deposit form and we can then stipulate how much to deposit into which accounts. She Loved the idea. Can she get ahold of her HR dept? Not likely. 
     * She asked me before and after getting the docs notarized, what the next step in the process was: Return the docs to the attorney so she can file them with the two counties in question. At one point, 30ish minutes after leaving the notary, mom asked me if we needed to get the docs back to the notary in order to file them. 
This sort of reaction to a ‘new’ project or task is to be expected. I purposely chose to tell her about the need to sign the docs at the last minute because had she learned about it 24 hours earlier, all of this would have cycled through her head for 24 hours longer than necessary. And I would have been answering the same three or so questions for ever so much longer! As it happens, she hasn’t brought it up since 30 minutes after the notarization of the docs. We’ve talked a couple of times since last weekend and I’m pretty sure she’s forgotten all about it. S’ok.

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