I Don't Even Know What To Call This

The wire transfer cleared today. Just up and f-ing cleared and dumped my inheritance into my checking account as if it were no big deal. Inheritance. I hate that word. It sounds like something you should get from a 90-year-old aunt. Some old bag you never really knew, who took a liking to you when you were nine and wrote you up in her will. It sounds like old money. This money is new. Fresh. Ripped from the house I grew up in. Not ready to be liquidated. My kids were supposed to play in that house. And now it’s just gone. And he’s gone. And he wasn’t supposed to be gone. He was supposed to be puttering around in that house forever. And now it’s all just… gone. And yay, I have a little bit of money now. And yay, I can put a down payment on a house and pay off my credit cards. But who will help me hang shelves and put up crown molding in that house? Who will visit me and smile with his chest all puffed out, like only a dad can do, at how proud he is of his little girl in her first home? And dammit, I don’t need this stupid money to pay off my stupid credit cards! I was doing it just fine on my own. I was making progress. I had it under control.

Dammit! I hate this.

It’s not that I’m not grateful. I mean, this money will substantially improve my current financial situation. I’m not dumb. I get it. I know it’s an amazing opportunity. It’s just… ok, so now I can pay for a wedding… but who will walk me down the aisle?

I have no idea what to do. I knew the money was coming – they said probate would take about a year and it’ll be a year on Friday. Dammit, has it been a year already? I didn’t know how surreal it would feel. I want to give it all away and save every penny all at the same time. I want to go buy my old house. I want to move forward and buy a new house. I want my dad back. And dammit, would a little ordeal be too much to ask for? The wire transfer just, poof, cleared. Like it was a check for 10 bucks that I’d been meaning to cash forever, that had sat stuffed in my wallet because it just didn’t seem worth to go all the way to the bank for 10 bucks, that I finally remembered to drop off at the ATM while I was out running errands this weekend and oh! neat, when I checked my online banking this morning, there it was! …Hello! This is a big deal, people. I feel like the bank should have called, offered their condolences, and then I should I have had to sign like a zillion papers. And fingerprints and birth certificate should have been involved. Don’t you think? But I guess my brother took care of all of that. It’s all so anti-climactic.

I hate this.

I feel small. I miss my dad. My eyes hurt.

Why don’t the big things come announced by trumpets? Why aren’t they gold leaf lettered on fancy parchment, waiting for my stamp of approval? Why does shit just happen? On random Tuesdays and Thursdays? I hate it. You meet your soul mate, a child is conceived, you get hit by a bus. It just up and happens. No warning, no parade, no dramatic pause while the whole world holds their breath. It’s all so… anti-climactic.

My heart hurts.