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 Hingham
- Some of you may recall that I lost both of my parents last
year, just six months apart. Mom passed away on February
13th, and August 21st was the one-year anniversary of my
dad’s death. My four sisters and I have experienced so many
emotions and faced challenges we could not have anticipated
or prepared for. There were times that we questioned whether
we had the strength to prevail and days when we doubted our
ability to remain a cohesive family in the end. At this
point, I think it is safe to say that we have and our
parents would be proud.
Grief is a very individual emotion and each of us has had to
find our own way of coping. While this may sound borderline
insane, I keep one of my dad’s used cigars (teeth marks and
all) in the glove compartment of my car and I have a
beautiful angel pin that was my mom’s that I wear when I
feel the need. Somehow, just having these items with me
allows me to feel my parents’ presence. This may seem
foolish to some but these items represent something far
greater than just a cigar and a pin to me, and all that
matters is that for me, individually, they bring comfort.
Each of us must find our own way of grieving the death of a
loved one; each of us must find our own “cigar” or “angel
pin.”
The most difficult challenge my sisters and I faced, by far,
was preparing the family home for sale. Having grown up at
805 East Fifth Street in South Boston, we have always simply
referred to our home as “805.” Since moving to Hingham 22
years ago, “805” was, in many ways, my connection to my
parents, my childhood, and the community I grew up in. I can
not even begin to convey the flood of emotions that came
with each offer, with the prospect that some other family
might actually be moving in to my childhood home. The image
of some other mom and dad sitting at the kitchen table
watching the evening news … of some other family with five
daughters fighting over one tiny bathroom … of some other
couple chatting over the fence to their lifelong neighbors
on a hot summer’s night. It was unfathomable and inevitable
all at the same time. With the impending sale of “805,” I
felt my connection to my parents, my childhood, and the
community I grew up in slipping away. On some level, it was
like another death we had to grieve.
After many tears and a great deal of soul searching,
however, I finally came to realize that my connection to all
that “805” represented was not slipping away at all – that
we were not selling our last remaining connection to our
parents. “805” was nothing more than a building. My memories
of my parents, my childhood and the community in which I was
raised could not be sold. My connection to my
parents, my childhood, and the community in which I was
raised is who I am.
Death brings challenges to every family, and the way we
handle it says a great deal about us. In my work as an Elder
Law Attorney, I have seen many families who have been driven
further apart by a death rather than closer together, as
they argued over possessions, control, and whom their mom or
dad loved more. All I can do is provide legal guidance and
encouragement to focus on the real priorities. When my
sisters and I faced the inevitable challenges and each of us
had a different opinion, the important question for us was
“what would mom and dad want us to do?” I can’t force
clients to get along with their family members, and I can’t
magically end estate disputes. Like grief, these are
individual choices. If you are in the midst of a family
dispute as a result of the death of a loved one, however, I
urge you to consider what your loved one would want
you to do.
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