I was having a discussion with Man-Child about something completely random - apparently so random that I can't even remember what we were talking about - when all of a sudden he pops up with "You keep giving me a hard time about not wanting my picture taken but where are all the pictures of you when you were a kid?" (yeah, apparently he's prone to switching gears mid-conversation. Kind of like his mom....)
The sad fact of the matter is I don't have any. I have a few that my aunt sent me after my mom died. But that's it. My mother had albums, upon albums, upon albums filled with pictures from before I was even born.
I remember when I flew home - my aunt had called to tell me that my mother was in a coma and that I should probably come. We didn't exactly know what was wrong. The nearest we can figure is that she had a stroke. She never woke up. She died January 29, 1999. To be completely honest, I was surprised that she had lived as long as she had considering the way she lived her life. She was only 55.
Before I left I was given the family bible, her wedding rings and a few pieces of her jewelry - trinkets, really. Little did I know that was all I would ever get. Not that I wanted much. I just wanted the pictures.
My mother, in her infinite wisdom, drew up her own will without the assistance of an attorney. Let me tell you now - if you don't have a will, or think you can do your own - forget it. Hire an attorney.
My mother had decided that she would leave the house to my brother and me but if her husband (the bastard) was still alive that he should be able to live there as long as he wanted or until he died.
When I left my brother said he would take care of everything. I should have known.
Apparently, after I left the husband moved in with some woman. Almost immediately. And rented out the house. My brother, you know the one who was going to take care of everything? Did nothing.
Apparently, the house has been sold. I looked it up online - it belongs to someone else now. And has for quite some time.
So what happened to all my mother's things? Those pictures that she treasured? Who knows.
Her last wishes were violated and her children received nothing. All I have now are the few little things that my aunt insisted I take at the time. I wish she'd insisted that I take some of those pictures. I wish I'd thought to pack them up and ship them home.