Today's Adulting

I went with my 80 year old father to the attorney's office today for him to finalize his will. Actually, I have gone several times across town for this specific task, but today it actually happened. I am tired of driving.

Dad has been quiet about the entire will-thing, with him giving me glimpses on occasion and me never asking. I don't know if he had mentioned anything to my brothers. Nor do I know why he specifically wanted me to be at the office with him, but he continued to ask, so I went.

Anyway, we walked in today, and the paralegal asked if Dad wanted advanced directives. He said, "what's that?" and I said, "yes, he does."

She then asked if he needed a medical power of attorney. Before Dad could answer, I said, "YES!" If working with Diamond Jim has taught me anything, it is that medical power of attorneys are necessary long before they are necessary. If Junior had a medical power of attorney, poor Diamond Jim would be in such better shape.

As we read over ever document--he handed me each page as he read it--I made comments and changes, like I would with any contract. It was so second nature to me, that I didn't think anything of telling the paralegal the correct spelling of my sister-in-law's name, or adding my brother to a certain bequest my dad made to my other brother and me. Dad didn't stop me, which I realized afterwards was kind of strange.

Apparently--I found this out at the lawyer's office--I am the executor. This isn't really that much of a shock, even though it kind of is. It was going to be me or my youngest brother. I certainly don't want to make medical decisions that may affect the outcome of his life. That's a huge burden. The advance directive helps, but there is still that responsibility hovering overhead.

In truth, even though I feel totally icky about this entire thing, I am glad he took care of this. There are a few looming issues that were a concern. Knowing he has made clear what is to happen, makes our lives easier. Hopefully. When we were leaving, I said to him, "This doesn't mean you can die. You have at least another 20 years."