It was asked as we were passing the mashed potatoes on turkey day.
The seriousness of the question seemed to lose its weight when asked amongst servings of my mom’s side dishes. Nevertheless the question hung briefly in the balance of the occasion.
Aunt Sandra was a relative I saw at annual holiday meals, weddings and funerals. For all five decades of my life, her hair was never out of place. Her clothes were always perfectly pressed, pleated and paired with a matching scarf. There was a mystery about her. She was timeless – until she wasn’t.
Now entering into her eighth decade the duties of mortality were setting in – she asked if I would be willing to handle her estate when her time came. Knowing that she never had children of her own, I quickly replied, ”Of course, whatever you need I will help you.”
That was Thanksgiving Day 2015. I had no idea what it meant to be the trustee of an estate. Over the next several years, Sandra and I started meeting regularly to get her “house in order.”. An unexpected mentorship started to form. As I met with her trust attorney and CPA, I’d make mental notes on how we needed to update our own family’s trust paperwork. When we sat down with her financial advisor, I marveled at the business savvy of this unassuming woman. Through her quiet wisdom, I started to tear down the walls of my own money blocks. It fueled a hunger in me to learn and invest. Going through her meticulous records, I became compelled to organize our own important paperwork.
With every step of getting her affairs in order, I was learning to take charge of our own household to-do list. As my aunt began to grow weaker with age, her mentorship was making me stronger. My life and outlook for our future was transforming.
It was then I received the phone call.
There had been a fall in the middle of the night. Sandra was taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital. The fall had triggered an onset of dementia. When I arrived to see her the following morning, I was introduced to a completely different woman. My once articulate and poised aunt was nowhere to be seen. Replacing her was a woman with wild eyes and hair askew. Dressed in nothing but a cheap nightie, her frail limbs flailed about, exposed as she demanded to be released from this prison. Convinced that she had been kidnapped by hostiles in the middle of the night, she fought like a frightened cornered animal.
In the blink of an eye, our relationship switched. I became the caregiver, the trustee, the power of attorney, the decision maker. What we had been preparing for the last several years unfolded quickly before us. Like a dusty rug being shaken out for spring cleaning, I was snapped into action. Within a day, arrangements were made to move into the memory care section of her assisted living facility. All her belongings were sorted through, given away, donated or tossed.
It all seemed so invasive. A person’s entire life reduced in a millisecond to what could fit in a dumpster or the trunk of a car.
It forced me to come to terms with the “stuff of life” I needed to part with and not leave for our kids to sort through. What were the things that really mattered?
Keeping Sandra’s dignity intact became the main mission. During this time, the lesson of living a disciplined life hit home. My aunt had choices during this new season of aging because of the intentional life she had lived long before these events took place. As her caregiver, I could focus on her needs and comfort instead of financial worries. I resolved to be a woman who finishes well, just like my aunt.
In the coming year, the hands on the clock slowed down enough to enjoy long talks with my Sandra. I learned that back in the 1970’s she had married my Uncle Dave, only to find out that he had a troublesome drinking problem. A couple years in, no longer willing to stand by watching the drinking destroy their lives and marriage, she issued an ultimatum. “You either stop drinking or I will need to leave.” It wasn’t long after – that Sandra divorced Dave. Leaving Dave did not mean that she didn’t love him. She did – with her whole heart. But leaving meant she also loved herself enough to make a stand and fight for the best.
I admired her strength – would I have been able to be that strong?
It also meant that she was now a divorcee` in a day and age where that was not acceptable. While her friends were busy being homemakers and raising families, she would need to find a way to provide for herself. Times were tough, but she was determined. It was here that with a little help from my grandfather she purchased her first real estate investment. She rented it out. Sensing she was on to something, she kept her eyes open and purchased another. Again, she rented it out. Before long, she became quite the savvy real estate investor.
Her determination and drive to be better was contagious. It caught the attention of Uncle Dave who spent the next couple years getting sober. Over the course of a decade he fought to win back Sandra’s heart and hand in marriage. He rose to the higher ranks in Alcoholics Anonymous and was an inspiration to all those who were on a path to recovery. The two of them were happily married for thirty-five more years until Dave’s passing in 2021.
Stories like these flowed freely from Sandra during her last year. I soaked up her knowledge of investing, business ownership and standing your ground as a woman. When I’d come to visit, I would find her taking a yoga class, group painting lessons or planting veggies in the community garden. She was insistent on keeping her mind active and being around people every day. “You need to get out and do things – don’t waste your days alone!” She would tell me. The staff and residents loved her and she was seldom without a friend.
When the end drew near, I sat on the edge of her bed with the yellow and blue quilt my mom made for her the past Christmas. I listened as the hospice doctor discussed with her what the end of life looks like. With no fear, she asked questions and accepted the answers in her matter-of-fact way. While I could barely see through my tears, she remained unphased, smiling even. Once again, she was teaching me that a life well lived finds beauty in finishing well.
On Sunday May 28, 2023 on my mom’s birthday Aunt Sandra took her last breath. It was a passing of the baton. She had prepared and left an incredible unexpected legacy to her nieces and nephews. In true Sandra style, every “i” was dotted and “t” crossed when it came time to prepare her memorial service. Even in death she took care of business. As a family we celebrated her life. For me, I felt like I had been given a rare glimpse into the life of my aunt, a detailed “how to” manual for my own second half. Her life breathed life into my dreams, and I’m forever grateful that I said yes on turkey day so many years ago.
In January of 2024, my husband and I vowed to carry on her legacy and launched a real estate investment company in her honor. It didn’t take long to think of the name for our new company, 528 Property Solutions. That was the day she handed me the reins to her life’s work. As part of the company’s mission, it’s my dream to be able to have properties one day that allow a newly divorced or widowed woman a place to find their footing again. I know my Aunt Sandra would approve.
