My husband gasped as he looked at his mobile screen. “Look at this,” he waved me over and held up his phone to show me our bank balance on the online app. I covered my mouth in shock as I looked at the six figure balance sitting in my bank account. I had known the amount and the fact that the money was coming, but was still shocked to see it sitting in my bank account. I had expected after the protracted process of receiving my inheritance I would feel relief, instead I felt gaping grief and guilt. I took myself to bed and cried for a week.
My mother had suffered from bipolar and the only thing that had kept us from homelessness in my childhood was the house she and my father bought, before he passed away when he was 30. His life insurance had paid off the mortgage and my mother had managed to raise my sibling and me on a disability pension because we didn’t have to pay for rent or a mortgage. We always had food to eat, even though the meat was tough and chewy because it was the cheapest cuts, she bought no-brand labels, and she could only buy us clothes twice a year, and in between we depended on donations from family friends who could upgrade their children’s wardrobes more frequently.
I had known the amount and the fact that the money was coming, but was still shocked to see it sitting in my bank account.
Eventually my mother married and my stepfather became her carer for the 30 years they were together. After my stepfather passed away, my mother’s physical and mental health rapidly declined. She required intensive care to remain at home and with my support as a defacto carer, and NDIS-funded carers, she managed, but I knew it was a matter of time before she would have to go into care. Tension built as I feuded with my family about the best way to manage my mother’s care, while the stress of our in-fighting brought about her mania and increased her blood pressure.
My mother passed away suddenly, a few months before the pandemic hit. Due to extended lockdowns in Victoria, it took four months for her autopsy results to be completed and a cause of death to be identified as hypertension. Only with the death certificate could my family, as beneficiaries, proceed with attempting to claim her estate as she had no will. There is the saying that “money doesn’t change people - it unmasks them”, and in the year it took for her estate to be settled there were many facades that were uncovered.
As soon as the money landed in my bank account, unease and paranoia filled me.
As soon as the money landed in my bank account, unease and paranoia filled me. I was terrified that a scammer would unearth my bank balance and find a way of stealing it. And in my dark moments of grief and insomnia, I wished for the money to be taken. It was what I deserved for being the bad daughter and contributing to her stress before she passed away.
My husband and I used the money to pay off a huge chunk of our mortgage. Now we had a tiny mortgage and I could finally achieve my dream of working part-time. My life was so much better. I had financial security that I had never had, and the opportunity to have work/life balance. My guilt intensified. The better my life was, the more guilt I suffered. Friends told me my mother would be happy that I had received my inheritance and she was caring for me even after she was gone, but all I could see was that I was benefitting from her death. It seemed obscene to be happy when she was dead. The two feelings fought within me on a daily basis.
My husband and I used the money to pay off a huge chunk of our mortgage. Now we had a tiny mortgage and I could finally achieve my dream of working part-time.
I remember when I was younger I had spent countless nights dreaming about what I would do if I were to receive a financial windfall. Usually these dreams involved winning the lottery and so I dutifully played my favourite numbers every week, just in case. In these fantasies my life would be so much better when I had financial security. Every once in a while a fantasy about receiving an inheritance would sneak in, but this was always an extended, unknown family member. These fantasies filled me with butterflies of joy. I had never imagined the reality of receiving an inheritance from my mother’s death. I thought I had so many more years with her. Now I know the price of an inheritance. It is always tinged with the bitterness of loss. I would give it all back, if only she was with me once again.
*Real name is not used
