Chapter 23 - Michael
Michael died when I was seventy-eight.
Cancer.
Ordinary and terrible.
Twenty-seven years married.
No secrets.
Before surgery years earlier, we had revised healthcare powers.
He asked:
“Still want me?”
“Yes.”
“Can revoke anytime.”
“I know.”
We laughed.
During illness, I sometimes became controlling.
Medication times.
Appointments.
Food.
He said:
“Claire.”
I stopped.
“Ask.”
Right.
“Do you want me to remind you at seven?”
“Yes.
Old lessons applied to good relationships too.
Control can come from fear even without abuse.
Difference:
He could name it and I stopped.
Then hospice.
No courtroom.
No police.
I held hand.
He said:
“Cake.”
“What?”
“Make sure Lena brings bad cake to funeral.”
I laughed and cried.
He died.
Lena brought excellent cake anyway.
At memorial, no one smashed.
Then grief.
I did not compare Derek.
Different deaths.
Different marriages.
One did not redeem other.
Michael’s estate straightforward.
Joint assets.
Separate assets.
No conflict.
His nieces.
My plans.
No inheritance shock.
I felt grateful for boring paperwork.
Then I moved to smaller condo.
Sold old apartment? I had kept separate then later sold years ago. Fine.
No Crestline shares by then.
Retired.
Lena nearby.
Then I found our prenup while moving.
Michael prenup.
Not Derek’s.
I read.
Simple.
Fair.
Then shredded duplicate because estate settled.
Contracts are tools.
Not sacred.
Then I thought:
I once believed safety could be written into clause 14.
It helped.
But real safety was behavior after signatures.
Michael never needed clause to stop his hand.
Derek had clause and assaulted anyway.
Documents matter.
May you like
People matter more.
Both.
