Written for the One Year of Letters Project.
Although it will sound like an oxymoron, I discovered a will is a living document. My latest health scare spurred me to create a will. I have children to protect somehow, after all, and although I’ve little to provide for them monetarily, I at least need to offer some small guidance for once I’ve shed this mortal coil and left them to their own devices.
As I wrote, I realized how little of monetary value I would leave behind. I am a woeful provider. I’ve worked most of my life, yet I have little to show for the efforts. I own a flooding house where the once-beautiful yard is now reduced to a swamp. The cars are not in my name. I own little jewelry, and what I have is not worth much money. Certainly, nobody should…
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