When I Lost My Husband, I Didn’t Mention The Retirement Benefits He Left Me – Or The Second Home In Spain. A Week Later, My Son Sent Me A Message With Clear Instructions: “Start Packing, The House Has Been Sold.”

But she excelled at delegating these struggles to others, particularly to the woman who’d raised her to be self-sufficient. “And Donald,” I asked, “what role do you play in this arrangement?”

“Lisa and I will handle the house sale, obviously. The paperwork, the negotiations.

We’ll make sure you get a fair price.”

Fair? I almost laughed. Donald’s definition of fairness had always been tilted in his favor, like a carnival game designed to separate fools from their money.

“I need to think about this,” I repeated. “Mom, there’s nothing to think about. Gregory’s client is serious.

They want to close within the month.”

A month. They were giving me a month to dismantle the life Russell and I had built together, to surrender the home where we’d hosted their birthday parties and graduation celebrations, where we’d nursed them through chickenpox and heartbreak and the various crises of young adulthood. I said, “I need to think about it.”

“Fine, but don’t take too long.

Good opportunities don’t wait around forever.”

Continue reading…