Saturday, October 19, 2013

Last Will and Testament

When I was younger, I was afraid of three things:  the 1950s cartoon "Casper the Friendly Ghost," liking boys, and death by white water rafting.



There was a time when I thought I might not make it to my 15th birthday. My class was embarking on an end-of-the-year 8th grade white water rafting field trip, and like any 14-year old girl who is more concerned with the meaning of life than packing cute outfits to impress the boys, I thought it was necessary for me to write a Last Will and Testament, just in case.

They say it is safe, but there are always fluke accidents.  So, in case I die, I have a few words to say to everyone.

I couldn't have been the only kid in my class planning for the worst-case-scenario...right?




Dad: I always wanted to run (on the track team) for you.  You make me proud.  I love you. You get my running shoes, medals, and ribbons.  

Given my father's recent obsession with ridding the house of our childhood memorabilia, something tells me those smelly running shoes would have ended up at the dump.

Mom: I love you too.  Even though I didn't always show it, I did.  I always wanted to be like you.  I want you to have this journal and my other writings.
Please see 14 Things My Mother and I Now Agree On 14 Years Later. Likeness achieved.

Natalie: Thanks for giving me drawing tips. I love you. You may have my drawings and other art stuff. 

An artist herself, I'm sure Natalie would have greatly appreciated more horse head-type drawings.  And the unspecified collection of 'art stuff.'

Annah: I am so proud of you. I hope you have a great life with Chris. I like him [now]. Name a kid after me. [They didn't] You have my tap shoes and masks. [

Yeah, I went through a masquerade-style mask-making phase and hung them on my wall. Who didn't?

Michael: You are so cool. We didn't always get along but that was mostly my fault [debatable]. Throw far [in reference to his javelin-throwing skills]. You get all my money and my games. 

Bribery is always one way to get your older brother to like you, even after you die.  The 37 dollars I had in the bank would have done it for sure.

Tommy: You always made me feel special.  You were a great role model.  You get my CD player (even though you basically have it!) my CDs (whoops, I don't have any)  and anything 'cool' you want to put on your shelf  

I'll throw in my Discman as well.  I've since made some sick Craig David-Mario-Josh Groban-Howie Day mixed CDs that are all yours.  And might I recommend the jar of real gold flakes, set-of-three elephant figurines, and the abacus?

Ellina: We didn't always get along either [definitely not taking the blame for that one], but I always loved you. You are great [true]. You get my stuffed animals and other toys

Except my Mary Poppins Barbie doll.  She stays on the top shelf where she is!  We can't have her hair getting all tangled like your mangy Little Mermaid Barbie.

I love all of you. Anything else you feel a close connection to, take it.

You are welcome, family.  I bet a little part of you is bummed that I made it back safe and sound.  But just in case I hadn't and my parents were going to feel bad for sending me on a trip to the wild outdoors, I made sure to include this reassuring tidbit:



Don't feel bad for sending me.  I probably would have died in a car crash or something.

I imagine my parents receiving the devastating news, and then saying with a shrug, "Welp, chances are she'd have gotten into a car crash anyway. Sooo what did she leave us?"

After some specifics about my burial (including head stone size and types of flowers) and the directive that if I had forgotten anything to  



"please let me know...I mean use your best judgment," I ended on a lighter note:



I love all of you, not one more than the other.  Enough said.

You may wonder why no one ever said, "Uh, Bessie, we need to talk about this whole I'm-probably-going-to-die-on-my-field-trip-or-in-a-car-crash thing"; but by this point, everyone in my family knew that if they touched or even thought about touching my journals, they would be "serverly punished" and so they stayed clear of them.  Which meant they never would receive these reassuring words or know what prized possessions I had left for them. Even in death, I'd have come back to serverly punish them as Bessie the Overly-Dramatic Self-Pitying Ghost.


5 days until my birthday. Here's to cheating death for the next 14 years.

No comments:

Post a Comment