Dear Elli,
My mom called me tonight. She informed me that she has completed her estate planning, and I am "the boss". You hear that? I've been telling her that I'm the boss for thirty-three years, and she finally bought that shit!
Apparently, your grandmother thinks I am responsible enough to handle her medical matters in the event she cannot, as well as administer her estate someday. We should probably take her to the doctor. She's clearly not well.
But, seriously. Jesus! I'm not a real adult. And my mom will never die, right? I'm just an overgrown kid. I still want my mom when I get sick. Or when I want to bitch about your father. Or when I want to throw back a few beers and laugh like hell.
I'm thirty-three years old, for crying out loud! Nobody is allowed to die yet!
I've seen my dad gravely ill and in critical condition several times over the past six years. I have a medical power of attorney in my filing cabinet for him, just in case I need to make decisions. He keeps fighting. And winning. And living. But he brought me some family heirlooms the last time he was here. Just in case.
I've watched my mom fight, and win, a battle with breast cancer. She's healthy now, thank God. But now I'm "the boss" of her affairs.
These are the people who, just a few years ago, were guiding me into adulthood. And now I'm responsible for guiding them through the end of their respective lives?
I'm being dramatic. I know that. Neither of them have any immediate plans to kick the bucket in the near future. And planning for such things is really what any responsible adult would do.
But, shit! Is this what it means to be a real adult? To be involved in your parents death planning? Cause, if so, it's really freaking stupid and I hate it. I'd rather go play Nintendo and bitch about my algebra homework. And take my parents totally for granted. That was way more fun.
Someday, when I go over my estate planning with you, you'll know what I'm talking about. So when that happens, at least you'll know ahead of time that it sucks. But it's a right of passage. And an indication that you're a real adult.
Being a real adult is stupid. You'll see.
I love you.
Mom (vibrantly young and painfully attractive at the moment)
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