Catching Idle Butterflies

A bit disturbing.

Forgive the second blog today, but I just had to add this.

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I just received a disconcerting phone call from my sister.

To begin with, getting a phone call from her while I’m at work was enough to make my heart drop. She has only called me once at work, and the reason is too long of a story to mention here. In short, only something serious would compel her to call me.

By her tone, no one had died, so I allowed my heart to start beating again. She had a few questions for me, and wanted to give me a heads-up about what happened with her and our mother this morning.

First off, a little history. When our grandfather died, he left his estate to our mother, a sister, stepsister, and his girlfriend. He had apparently cut out my sister and me to give “our share” to the girlfriend.

That bothered neither of us. We both figured it was his money, so he could do with it as he wished. Besides, I’ve seen too many families torn apart after someone dies because they felt slighted by who ended up with what. I’d sooner walk away with nothing than to endure something like that. Margaret feels the same.

Mom, however, felt differently. She actually felt guilty Margaret and I got nothing. So she decided to send both of us a certain amount for three years, just enough to avoid paying gift taxes on it.

This year is the third and final year.

Beginning yesterday, a little voice told me not to expect a check. Interesting, but just that. Interesting.

Until Margaret told me what happened:

She normally goes over to our parent’s house once a week at 8:00am to clean the house, but this morning, she felt pulled to go over earlier. She showed up around 7:15, and Mom was there.

Margaret stared off by thanking Mom for giving us the money, and how grateful she was for the three checks, etc.

Mom looked back at her and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

All Margaret could do was stare, completely taken by surprise.

“Do you think I’m lying?” she asked a moment later.

“No. I just don’t remember promising you that.”

Margaret then asked me, “Do I remember this right? She did promise to send us a check for three years, right?”

“That’s what I remember.”

“So did Mom really forget, or is she lying to me?”

To that I couldn’t even begin to guess. With Mom, you never know what she will say or do from one day to the next. She always has been unpredictable.

Now the money is not the issue here. It’s Mom’s money to do with as she pleases. But our concern is not knowing if she was lying or did she really forget? I don’t like either answer. If she is lying, why? If not, that means her memory is going. Her health is failing, so it shouldn’t be a surprise. But I still have difficulty accepting it when faced with the evidence of it.

But more than her failing memory or the possibility of a lie is why would God pull Margaret toward the house in the first place? Why was it so important Margaret show up 45 minutes earlier than she normally would have? It may have nothing to do with the knowledge we wouldn’t get any money this year, but something entirely different.

And that’s what scares me.

Then again, that should give me comfort, because God may have prevented something even more serious from happening.

I may never know what that something was, and that could be a good thing.