Will of Wavybrains

Perhaps it is the Terri Schavio case.  Perhaps it is change in medications that's playing havoc with me right now. Perhaps it is the simple notion of getting older.  Or perhaps, and most likely, it is Connie Mae Fowler, and her uncanny ability to make the unpalatable parts of life slide down like sweet tea, coaxing away of the ugliness of something bitter like death, until dwelling on the morbid becomes as natural as dinner.  Each of  Fowler's books leaves me introspective, questioning my life, and seeking the same meaning in my life that resonates in every sentence of her books.  And so, after finishing The Problem with Murmur Lee, I've decided to follow Murmur Lee's example and write my will.  Even though I intend to be around a good while longer (and so did Murmur Lee), and what I write now will be irrelevant at the time, I'm still glad I drafted a will.  A first for me.

(And it was such an eye-opening exercise, that I hope to post more on it soon. The mere thought of what if? is very terrifying and freeing at the same time)

I, Wavybrains, being of sound mind and body, make the following bequests, effective when I pass on to whatever comes next in this grand adventure. 

One will probably wonder why so many of my bequests are to people I've never met, to my friends-in-the-computer, when I could leave things to "real" friends.  Sadly, I'm not good at long-term, long-distance friendships, and while I've had great friends, from school and other jobs, I'm horrible at keeping in touch.  And while I could leave things to my coworkers, I know both too much and too little about them.  Which isn't a slam, rather I feel vulnerable enough, when living, exposing what I do of my quirks to them, revealing my eccentricities, that as I write this, I feel more comfortable leaving things to my blog friends.

And this may be because I only know one side of them, because I have seen enough of their lives to fear their rejection. And so I am able to hope, in a way I cannot with many of those whom I see on a daily basis, that they would find the pieces of my life useful.  Which, in the end, is really what it's all about.  I think the thing we all fear most when we sit down to right a will, is that no one would find important what we did, that no one will value what we worked so hard for, that they wouldn't appreciate the bequest, that it would make them feel burdened and awkward.  And because, we won't be here to see that, to judge their reactions, writing a will really is one of the ultimate acts of trust in other people.  You must give without requiring a reaction of the recipient.  Which is hard, but also vitally important. 

But, what one can do, as Murmur Lee does, is explain why you are giving something. 

To Scientist, I leave my Jeep, puppy, because he is the only person likely to coax another few years out of her, and unlike me, he knows what transmission fluid is and what an oil pan is for.  She'll me for leaving her to him. 

I leave my boxes of fabric, what craft supplies I have at the time, and my sewing machine to the Girl Scouts. I'm not going to delude myself into thinking that badges will be earned or that lives will be changed, but perhaps an afternoon spent freeing the artistic side of girls isn't too much to ask. 

The unfinished quilts, I leave to Day, along with my incredible gratitude that we shared quilting along with everything else we have in common.  Like the correct placement of light and dark fabrics, the universe placed us next to each other for a time for a reason, and I trust the universe's wisdom.

There's probably not much to speak of in my bank account.  But the reason for that is because of the choices I've made, and I'm proud of that. I went to law school to accomplish something other than a big bank balance.  And what's there, may the ACLU use wisely and keep fighting .

To my Fat Flush sisters, I'm hoping that it would go without saying that I'd expect a smoothie toast and a challenge in my honor.  I've got a ratty trampoline, a well-worn yoga mat, a slowly-deflating exercise ball, and a much beloved bike.  I've got various and sundry supplements, organizers, and FF recipes.  When I leave for the great rebounder in the sky (hopefully AFTER the change, as a very old FFer), I'll trust lindentree and csoar to distribute my largess to big losers in need. 

My books are my friends. I've been horrible at keeping in touch with old friends, with forming the sort of deep bonds that hold two women together through the storm of life.  I imagine this will be one of my greatest regrets.  But, my books have filled that void for me and should I no longer need their comfort, I'll trust Michele, and Tanya, and Book Girl to find good homes for any stragglers not otherwise bequeathed herein. 

My law books are slightly different from my book friends that have kept me awake on dark nights.  The vindictive, bitter part of me would like to will them to the school, to be displayed, opened to the blood, sleep deprivation, skipped meals, and pale pasty skin reflected in the margin notes that obscure the text.  I'd like to suggest that the law school fill cubicle 47 with the them, in perpetuity, with rolling bag and purple lunch box optional, but appreciated.  But. I'm not really that vindictive or bitter, and I've come  have a sense of humor about the whole thing.  Which I lacked early on.  Which A.B.V. knows only too well.  She can have the books to do with as she will.  If she wants to make a tacky late night ad, ala' the eye-patch guy, they'd get a kick out of being in the background.  Just be sure to wear a nice suit. 

She can't have MY suits though.  Those are headed for the wonderful people over at Dress for Success. 

Any clothing that Dress for Success can't use, and my accessories, should be boxed up to be circulated among my female relatives, and you know who you are.  This is our way.  We have shopped the closets of each other, of the dearly departed, taking what we can use, and passing on the rest, and this is the legacy you have left to me, of sweater sets and evening bags, and old trends long gone, but still in "good condition," that we can't bear to part with. Especially if one of us might be able to use it.  So shift through, as you pay homage to my bargain skills and my fashion sense, and all I ask is that you don't save the purses for "good." They want to be used.  I swear. 

It will be discovered, upon my parting, that I have a thing for beauty products.  New shades of nail polish, product samples, and quirky packaging.  I proudly inherited my addiction from my beloved aunt, and because I lack nieces, I'd like redheaded princess, who knows a thing or two about beauty product lust, to have my pretties for Bella's beauty parlor. 

At my mother's house, are the dreams of future motherhood, the books, and dolls, and remnants of my childhood. The toys probably grow more dusty by the years, and the poor tortured barbies are most likely good only for a laugh, but baring nieces and nephews to appreciate my books, I know redheaded princess will understand why I saved them, and if she wants them for Bella, I'd be honored. 

To robosushi and goldenmarionette, if Freak should be unable to take my Caylis, if she is orphaned, I trust you to find her only the very best home, with lots of Frisbees.  I also leave goldenmarionette my sketchbooks, the random fashion scribblings and house designs that litter my life.  Her own stuff is so much more talented and original, but I leave them to her, even if only for a laugh. 

To my friend the Marxist, I leave the wine in the fridge, and my mp3 collection.  A small, inadequate thanks for music, and wine, and friendship when I needed all three desperately and he was there. 

To my friend the philosopher, I leave his signed book, which remains a bond between us, even during the long months and years when our communication lapses.  He's also welcome to any of my philosophy books, particularly the ones that will look most out of place with his ethical egoism collection, because my books are more valuable thanks to the great debate he has dished out over the years. 

I have another collection of books, one that Book Bin won't buy, and my book curators named above might be shocked by, and my mother would probably suggest be burned.  Silverflurry won't be shocked, and so I leave them to her. 

To my mother I leave my "My Documents" folder and my journals.  It's not that I expect her to turn them into a literary triumph (which would be nice), bur rather, I'd like to see them join her journals, and discovered when she too passes on as part of the body of work linking us to each other, declaring us to be writers, even if only to each other. 

To my father, I leave my chopsticks, my Michael Jordan biography, and all my debate trophies and science fair medals, and assorted certificates, ribbons and cords, that have as much of him as me in them. 

To my new mother-in-law, who fears I don't have enough religion, but who loves me anyway, and shares my love for family and traditions, and my yearning for more than what is there, I leave my bible. 

To my brothers, I leave the wish that there was more.  To stud monkey, I leave my book on Celtic traditions. To Mattydog, I leave my work badge and my diplomas.  For decoration or reflection as he chooses, and to both "bothers" I leave my board games, for all the times they were anything but. 

My kindred spirit Aunt has it in her to be a first class Internet addict, perhaps even an obsessive blogger.  I leave her my laptop so she, and the rest of us can find out.

To Always Victoria, I leave my idea file--the clippings and positive journal exercises and ideas, and self-indulgence wishes.  She'll understand why I kept it. 

I leave my blender(s), my cookbook collection, and my recipe notebooks to LSue from the forum. She will appreciate that I owned a backup for the former and the variety of the latter. 

To Natalie, I leave my milk glass, if you do not already have it, and my eternal thanks that it will live on, somewhere where it is appreciated.

To my cats, as a sign that I really did love you, I leave my pillows.  Do your worst. 

To my Caylis, I leave my side of the bed, all my shoes, my eye glasses, and whatever else she would like to chew to express her misery at my passing.  Please don't be swayed by the first good Frisbee arm to come your way, puppy girl, and bite the bottom of anyone who tries to take that side of the bed. 

The rest is really tchotkes and I'm hoping my freak won't have an ESTATE SALE to announce my passing.  Because as much as I've loved a good bargain, I really can't stand the thought of the random pieces of my life, my treasures, end up as someone else's junk.  I'd rather have anything he doesn't need or want go to the Humane Society Thrift store. 

My freak, who knows my wishes, who I trust to carry out my wishes, even when he shacks up with that 17 year old or two like he's always threatening.  My freak, who appreciates the shit we both talk and the depth at which our energy has connected, gets to keep that which can't be taken: the energy baseballs, and mental snapshots.  He can free himself from my blood meters or keep them to remind himself that he saved me more than once, in so many ways.  He can frame the ice cream scoop and the book light and surround himself with the paintings and doodles and silly putty flowers and pink walls.  He can wrap himself in the house that I, that we, have made a home, but he will be forgiven if he does none of these things.  I leave him the choice. 

Finally, there are those to whom I could leave Snarky bequests, but I won't.  I thought I might, and I could fill a whole separate document with regrets and bitterness, jealousies, and old hurts.  But I'd like to think that that when my time comes, I'm not going to care about settling any scores.  I'd get no pleasure from listing them out, and it's gift to myself to be able to realize that. 

I want more than anything to be remembered as someone deeply empathic, who loved whole-heartedly and talked too loudly, and embraced the business of living with a passion.  Who, even if she was convinced that the world was ending from time to time, still knew how to throw her head back and laugh and take joy in what she could.  My inner control freak hates this most of all, that I can't will how to remember me.  After I'm gone, I can't dictate my own immortality, the memories that will linger and those that will disappear like motes of dust in the air. I think this is why people make wills, in the hope that by leaving pieces of themselves, that they will be remembered just a little longer.  I can't ensure that any of you will remember me how I want to be remembered, so I will say this, I will hope that I've given it my best shot.

And if I've omitted a possession or a person, neither are less loved, just simply overlooked, and apologies are asked. 

Comments

[justin]

Who will you leave Hester to?

[iliana]

Oh you leave me your books! I'll try not to fight with Tanya and Michele over who gets what :)

[Lilybleu]

Sad! I thought I would be endowed with something... I am the one with a library in progress, shouldn't I be the one to get the books? Ah well. We each have our reasons. And have you written all of this into a fully legal document or is this a writing exercise simply? What a unique and fun writing exercise it would be, I am sure!

I talk of writing a legal will because of the animals, but I have not yet done it. I will be very careful about who I leave my sweet Jasper to that's for certain! He's my baby and deserves to be unabashedly spoiled for his entire life. :)

May we both live long and happy lives.

Lily

[tanya]

I'm honored.

Iliana, I'll play nice. :)

Lilybleu - You KNOW I still have more books than you! I don't have any built-in shelves yet, but I have wayyyyy more books than you and it will take you YEARS to catch up (insert evil cackle). :)

I've done this before - in a manner of speaking - but never so thoroughly. I should think through it sometime. Really, the only things for ME to bequeath would be...writings and books and DVDs. And if Nick is still around, I don't know that he'd be able to get rid of anything except the books.

[Old Horsetail Snake]

This is a beautiful piece, Wavy. You da woman!

[wavybrains]

It's mainly a writing exercise, but it could very easily be a legal document, if I got it notarized. If any one would like some boiler plate for a living will (a document we all should have), I'd be happy to send it to you. If you write a will, I'd be happy to link to it.

[eve]

OK, you know I'm taking Wills & Trusts right now, so I just had to start reading it like a fact pattern. Then I was like, HELLO, friend's will you're reading here... don't scan for issues... scan for your NAME... :) j/k.

[Day]

Once again, our energy connects.
My lawyer just sent me my copy of my living will to complete (I kid you not).

Have I told you how much I fucking love you?
As usual, you're brilliant. And thank you for the quilts. I promise to honor your memory the best I can.

[Amanda]

Wavy--Im very touched. We cannot wait to see you in St. Louis. And thank you for trying to keep a long-distance friendship alive & still being my friend.

ABV

[Theo]

thanks for dropping by my blog. nice to find you.

[Old Horsetail Snake]

Hoss is posting again, in case you care.

[sarah]

I too accept the great honor and responsibility hereby bestowed! : P

And would very much appreciate living will boilerplate... any advice... it was on last year's resolution list. : P : P

[Carrie]

*Sniff* While I hope you will be around a good,long time, Bella and I would be honored, by your beauty products, and would wear them proudly, in your honor. *Sob* Do you know that I have my most favorite books and toys from my childhood, too? And will most certainly save Bella's. Books are a favorite thing. What was your favorite childhood book, by the way? Thanks for the sweetness. Now don't die! Carrie

[Carrie]

You know, I don't think I ever got back to say congratulations on your marriage! Congratulations! I wish you both every happiness! And lots of sex.

[Old Horsetail Snake]

Hey, girlie! Write us something. You must have great storehouse of stuff by now. Keep smiling.
Hoss

[colleen]

This is very weird that you left this post and then stopped writing. I'm spooked.