Wilma Part Two

1/14/2014

Wilma (2nd page).....

So while I’ve been sitting in the chair, my mind has wandered off, which is okay and even expected, when you reach a certain age (it turns out to be a perk, and it maybe the only perk of being old)!  I break free from my revere when I hear, rather than see, the attorney slap an envelope onto the desk.  I stare at my name, which is written in my husband’s handwriting, and know that once I read this letter, there won’t be any others from him. Oh I suppose he could become an angel or something and drop by for a visit, which would certainly scare the crap out of me, and that would certainly shorten my lifespan.  This letter just can’t be good news.  He wasn’t much of a letter writer while he was alive, so why am a getting a letter now?  My mind goes off in a thousand different directions while I continually tap the envelope on the corner of the desk.  

“Wilma, please try and concentrate.  I know you haven’t heard a thing I’ve said so far, which I understand. But, facts are facts – your husband has died and he gave me some very specific instructions.

“What instructions?  Does he believe that he can control what I do even from the grave? I already know he wanted to go out - on the cheap in a cardboard box if I could find one that I could squeeze him into.  He wanted no service, no limo, no flowers, pretty much nothing.”  Trust me I’m going to send him off just the way he wanted.  I certainly don’t want to deny him his final request and it's for sure I'm not going to waste any of my money unnecessarily.  And out of respect, I won’t call 1-800-Got Junk for at least a week."

After the umpteenth time of watching Fred check his watch, I just couldn’t remain quiet a minute longer.  “Fred, am I keeping you from something or more likely someone more important?  You have checked that stupid watch constantly and I don’t want to keep you from anything that you need to be doing.  I know when I’ve worn out my welcome, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll see myself out.”

 

“Wilma, please calm down.  I’m not trying to rush you, it’s just that I don’t know how to best handle your husband’s last request.”

“You mean he had a last request? Seriously?  You mean a request other than to be as frugal (which is simply a nice word for cheap) when it comes to taking care of his remains.  I can and will send him off as cheaply as I can.  Trust me I can do that. I cannot believe that even after death, he's got just one more thing to say to me.  He's gone, and now I'm going to play the game of life my way. I was a good wife and Alan controlled the show, as well as our life much, if not all, of the time. Since I'm clear on what kind of send off he wanted, what else is there to talk about? To really save on money, I intend to cremate him and instead of investing in an urn (and you know they can be pretty pricey), I'm just going to put his ashes in my flower bed along with the petunias. Maybe he'll be good for the soil! 

Watching the irritated look on Fred’s face, I decided to calm down and put on my best nice old lady face, which generally allows me to get my way.  “Sorry Fred I swear I’m listening.  What letter?  And don’t bother to tell me that you don’t have a clue, because I’m not buying that story.  I may be old but clearly I wasn’t born yesterday, so cut the crap and talk to me.” You know and I know that he didn’t just stop by to drop off this letter and have coffee and a chat with you.  Need I remind you that talking to you costs money, and Allen hated wasting money.”........