Blog Post Thursday: Sometimes the Lesson Is Costly

It's Blog Post Thursday and something has been weighing on me a little this week.

I've had a couple of phone calls lately about estates. That happens a lot in this business, and I'm genuinely grateful that people trust us with them. We help people keep moving forward during some of the hardest seasons of their lives. We've heard a lot of stories over the years. Some of them stick with you.

This one was told to me several years ago by someone else. I don't know the people involved and I don't even think it happened in this state — so I feel okay sharing it, because it isn't really about them. It's about the lesson.

A woman spent years taking care of her uncle. He had no children. He told her he was leaving everything to her. She pushed back — no, include the other nieces and nephews. He told her flat out: they're not here, they haven't even called, take the money and go build a new life. He was well off. She had earned it. He knew it.

He died. She divvied the inheritance up among everyone anyway, because that's who she is.

Then came the estate taxes.

She asked everyone to chip in a little to help cover them. Every single one of them refused. And because she was the one in charge, she ended up using her entire share to pay the bill. The people who hadn't been there, hadn't called, hadn't helped — they walked away with money. She walked away with nothing.

My heart aches for her, and I don't even know her.

I don't know that there's a clean moral here. It's not take the money and run — that's not it. But I do think sometimes our own sense of right needs to pause and actually hear the person who is trying to look out for us. He wasn't being cold or selfish when he told her to take it. He knew his family. He was trying to protect her.

She didn't have to listen. She chose her own conscience. And I respect that — I really do. But they didn't like her before, and they didn't like her after. Sometimes being generous costs you everything and changes nothing.

Maybe one moral is this: know a good accountant. There are two guarantees in this life — death and taxes — and both will find you whether you're ready or not.

Another thing I've learned over the years — and I say this gently — if you can, don't do anything for at least one day besides calling the funeral home. Take one day to do nothing more than mourn. There will be people who ask for things before the body has even made it out of the house. You know they wanted me to have this table. It happens more than you'd think. Give yourself permission to not make a single decision that day.

My great-aunt passed away years ago, and one of her sons was at the funeral asking what would Mom want, what would Mom want. His grandmother — my great-grandmother, a genuinely kind and gentle woman — sat down, looked him in the eyes, and said:

"It doesn't matter what she wants. She's dead. You have to figure out what you want."

It wasn't mean. She was one of the nicest people I ever knew. But she was practical, and sometimes practical is exactly what grief needs.

We need to learn from each other. We need to take a moment to understand. The lessons aren't always easy, but they're worth sitting with.

I normally sign off with Happy Bidding, but today I'll leave you with this instead — guard your happiness, but still share it with the world.

Kara C. Belcher-Miller