It’s final

The Clerk of the Court has accepted and filed the final Accounting for the Estate of….and the Estate is now closed.

I received this letter 16 months after Tim’s death. As the Executrix of his Estate, I was relieved that this process was complete. I had said out loud to Tim so many times in the past year, as I cried or laughed in frustration, “you are lucky that I didn’t die first.” He would have hated the protocols and all the effort involved in the role of an Executor.

But this letter from the court, it triggered me. I began asking the questions again. How is this possible? How are you not even ‘here’? We are told that death is final. But there are many, many things that occur after someone’s death that make it feel final again. And again. And again.

Most of these moments are unanticipated, and suddenly there you are. The Estate is now closed. Closed. Once open. Never to be open again. Everything that Tim worked for his entire life, wrapped up in a court, like a ledger. Any material thing left behind. Accounted for. So sterile. Ink on paper.

Those material things left behind – that’s all the Clerk of the Court knows about. But there is more.

Tim was a good investor and provider for his family, but he did more than that.  I was a regular witness to his generosity. And as his partner, truthfully, I didn’t always understand it or feel the need to provide it in the same way. He used his hard-earned money as a way to give. And there was a wide range of giving.

The most obvious, and frequent, was through food. There was NOTHING that made Tim happier than to spend all day cooking a meal for others. A gathering small or large, of friends, family or strangers. Buying dinner at a restaurant was also a regular occurrence (how many of you have fought Tim over the check!). I know this seems small and simple. We all do it occasionally. But Tim did it ALL the time. If there was no one seated with him that he could snag the check from, someone in that restaurant was going to get a meal on Tim!

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Tim found many opportunities to give. There were a number of college tuition payments for extended family or children of friends; a no-questions-asked check to a struggling Mom; a “loan” to a friend facing a tough time; a medical procedure payment for a family member without insurance; front of stage tickets for his favorite teenage girls for a Bruno Mars concert; and outfitting an apartment to help a family member establish themselves. And, as I learned at his celebration of life, Tim secretly covered the cost of a bowling league for a group of nurses. He really valued you ladies, but we know your league name, the Double-D’s, got his attention!

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Whatever it was, the dollar amount did not matter at all to Tim, and he would say to me, “I came from nothing. Now I can help, so why wouldn’t I?” or “It will make them feel good.”

Tim often reflected on his own upbringing. Working for every cent to pay for college and Medical School. Because he worked so hard for his education and everything that he had, empathy came easy to him, and he always wanted to help.

Money wasn’t Tim’s only vehicle for giving. Of course, as a physician, he gave every day. He loved helping people. I know his greatest satisfaction was working pediatric ENT. He loved holding those littles and comforting parents. He took great pride in his medical expertise and his humorous and gentle, bedside manner.

Tim also helped in kind. He mentored many teens and young adults. He did this in the hospital, having aspiring medical practitioners shadow him. Most of his mentoring was informal. His favorite time was prepping for SAT’s. Helping teens in our inner circle to  study in his fun way. It’s time for the “word of the day!” And then dreaming with them about what college they might choose. Tim always setting the bar high for others so they could see how he believed in them and they should believe in themselves. Stanford usually his first choice. This was particularly important to Tim, as he always wondered what it would have been like to go to an Ivy League school. Although he had the brains and grades, he didn’t have the foresight, money or confidence as a young adult to pursue any such thing. Not wanting others to make the same mistake, he dreamed big for them.

If you are still reading, thanks for sticking through my bragging on Tim. I believe he deserves this recognition, and I choose to honor that whenever I have the chance. But, this isn’t just about Tim. One day, your estate will be closed. What will be said about you?

Tim’s Estate is now closed, but it’s not just material possessions. Most of what he left behind can’t be measured. I guess that is what you call a legacy. And there is nothing final about that.