It’s been over 36 months now since my mother’s funeral, a few weeks longer since she passed away, and almost as many months since I stood there and gently lowered her urn into the flower bed memorial where she rests. It’s been almost as long since one of my sisters started what became a family dividing fight. So for the last three years it’s been the lawyer this, the attorney that, the new counselor this, and another barrister that. It’s been driving us all insane, but I guess it’s just her way of saying she wasn’t pleased with the will.
So many times I’ve thought: the past has passed, let it go. But it’s been impossible. It wasn’t behind me, us, my family. It was still very much going on. And in the end it just became, why even bother trying? I stopped thinking about it.
After 36 months it must have come to an end, or the state steps in and solves it for you (that’s how it works here in Sweden, folks, inheritance disputes can’t go on forever). And a few days ago I was informed that she finally had accepted our mother’s final will. No objections, nothing. The past is in the past, I can let it go, finally.