Haven

I, Ross J. Marchand, Jr, being of sound mind and body, do declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, written, signed, and witnessed on the nineteenth of September, 2017.

Haven,

I write this knowing that when you read it, your mother and I will both be dead. That isn’t a comfortable thought. This isn’t going to be an easy letter to write. I’m certain that after you read this, you’ll finally understand us. I don’t know how that understanding will affect you. I pray that you can handle what is coming for you. I hope that whatever happens, you will do what is right for you. Hopefully, you will discover your truth much sooner than we did ours.

You’ve lived a hard life, and we’re sorry. We can’t go back and change how we raised you. We made our choices, and we can’t reverse them. We wouldn’t want to do anything differently though, no matter how harsh that sounds. We scratched out a living the best way we could. Now you’re grown, and a mother with children of your own. You know how to overcome a struggle. You know how to survive. You’ve worked three jobs so that you could go to college, knowing your mother and I barely graduated from high school. You’ve taken out gigantic loans that seem impossible to ever payback. You knew we had nothing to contribute. You knew you would have to do it all on your own.

You spent a lot of time on your own, making your breakfasts, locking the door behind you, and coming home to find yourself alone again. Your mother and I were always working overtime, and still only just getting by. We worked wherever and whenever we could, even if it meant leaving you at a neighbor’s house, and sometimes for a week or two. You were lonely. We did what we could. In our hearts, we know we deserve your indignation, and that no amount of apologizing will change a damn thing. That being said, you need to know we did everything for you out of love.

Sometimes a gift doesn’t gain its value until it is too late to say thank you.

Now that I’ve lived my life I am certain that all of us are on a journey, and life is a big old test. At first, it seems like life is full of lessons, but after a while, you either learn your lessons or you don’t. That’s the test.

I’d like to take some time to tell you your favorite story once more. You know the one. You were young, maybe four or five. Your mom and I had a joint checking and savings account at our local bank. One day we decided to take you with us. We intended to open a savings account just for you. We wanted you to have something if anything ever happened to us. We were talking to the bank manager, and you were fidgeting. You were only four or five at the time. The manager had a bowl of lollipops on their desk. She asked if you wanted one. You chose butterscotch. You unwrapped it, took a taste, and immediately changed your mind. Even butterscotch can be disappointing when you’re expecting something else.

You got upset when I said your choice had already been made. I said the usual things about starving kids in other countries. I told you that some kids don’t get any lollipops. You started throwing an epic tantrum anyway. I had no idea a kid could cry so much over a lollipop. You ignored me and reached out, grabbed a handful, and tried to stuff all of them in your pockets. The bank manager was telling me it was okay, and you could have as many lollipops as you wanted. We kept apologizing as you continued to attempt to fill your pockets with candy, while also screaming and crying your head off.

The bank manager insisted we shouldn’t worry. She said there were boxes of lollipops in the janitor’s closet. This only encouraged you. The manager finished setting up your account and stood up to escort us to the tellers so we could make a deposit. Lollipops were falling out of your pockets like a trail of breadcrumbs.

A young man in a suit, probably about the age you are now, was sitting in the lobby. He stood up, walked to us, and asked if you’d ever seen a bank vault before. That shut you up quickly. He told us he was there to make a withdrawal. He asked us if we wanted to take a tour. You asked if there would be more lollipops. The young man told you there wouldn’t be lollipops, but there would be lots of treasure. We followed the man and the bank manager down a hallway to the bank vault. The bank manager opened the vault, and we all stepped inside.

The bank vault was a small room lined with safety deposit boxes. There was a metal table on casters in the middle of the room. On top of the table was a sizable amount of cash. The cash was piled neatly in wrapped stacks of hundred dollar bills. The man told us that we were looking at one million dollars.

He asked you what you would do with a million dollars. You know what you said to the man. I don’t need to repeat it. I just wanted you to remember because of what I’m going to say next.

Right now, If everything has been done as per my wishes, you are sitting in that same bank vault with the same man, only now he’s an old man. That’s my lawyer, Henry. His law firm has been seeing to our family’s affairs for generations. If Henry is dead, they will send a different representative. Since I wanted to make an impression, and because he’s generally a good man, I hope Henry is not dead.

So, if everything is as it should be, you’re in that bank vault with Henry and you’re staring at another million dollars in cash. There should also be documentation on a savings account, this Last Will and Testament, and a small, well-worn, black notebook.

That savings account contains money collected from every bit of overtime and extra dollars your mother and I ever were able to save for you. Every penny either of us ever saw on the street is in that account. Our funeral expenses are paid for out of a separate account. The savings account contains exactly twenty thousand dollars.

If I were you, right now I’d be looking at all that cash and asking Henry what the hell was going on. Here’s the deal. We didn’t have to save that money for you. We didn’t have to work all of that overtime. We didn’t even have to work. We could have sent you to Harvard or Yale. We could have taught you about history by showing you the world, but we chose to be poor and send you to the library. We did it for you. We wanted you to be a normal person. We chose to raise you in humble circumstances, now it is your time to choose what you will become.

Haven, if you've managed to keep reading without passing out, or throwing a tantrum, what I’m trying to tell you is that you’re not poor. You are, in fact, immensely rich. Disgustingly rich. We lied to you. The important truths are still true, but many things you’ve been led to believe are lies. We both grew up in wealth. We went to the best schools. We traveled the world. We had the world in our hands.

The contents of that book have been passed down in our family for hundreds of years. That book in particular is a handwritten copy of a much older book, plus additional information that has been gathered over the years. Before you were ever born, I read a Last Will and Testament much like this one, written by my father. He gave me the same choices I am about to give you. When it was my turn to make the choice, I chose to take all the wealth that was offered. It was the obvious choice. I was accustomed to a certain quality of life. I could not imagine a life unlike what I had been living. Then I read the book. Then I married your mother. Then she read the book. Then you were born, and both of our lives were forever changed. We grew up thinking we had a purpose. We were so wrong. We made our decision because our purpose was you.

I can’t tell you what is in the book. My father’s Will stipulated that the contents of the book could only be shared under specific circumstances. Now that I am dead, the book is passing to you, but there are rules I had to follow, and you have to follow those same rules. I can’t tell you why I chose to walk away from my inheritance and live like the other ninety-nine percent. Again, there are things I cannot say.

What I will tell you is that you are not only our child but a great experiment that has been hundreds of years in the making. All you have to rely upon are the values you were taught. We taught you to be humble and giving. We taught you to question, and to dream, and to be self-reliant. We taught you to see those who were hurting around you and to care.

The love your mother and I have for you is immeasurable. Whatever you choose, we know you will make the choice that is right for you, and we give this gift with love. I know I haven’t always told you that I loved you with regularity, or when it mattered. I know that it matters now more than ever.

Your Father

I, Ross J. Marchand, Jr., do hereby bequeath all property and bank holdings to my daughter, Haven J. Marchand, or her eldest living child and/or heir at the time of her passing, with stipulation that she choose to either:

A) Inherit all real estate and physical properties and bank accounts, currently totaling $865,174,981.37, and stewardship of the black book and its contents, which she must promise to bequeath to her eldest living child and/or heir, upon her passing, provided they are given the same two choices in her Last Will and Testament. As part of her stewardship, my daughter is allowed to read, research, and care for the book. Moreover, she will not be allowed to possess anything found by reading the book, researching its contents, or through travel pertaining to any discovery based upon the contents of the book.

B) Inherit all real estate and physical properties and bank accounts, currently totaling $865,174,981.37, which, but for the savings account containing $20,000.00, she must donate to any charities of her choosing, and ownership and stewardship of the black book, and its contents, of which she is granted full rights of possession. Furthermore, she or her eldest living child and/or heir may read, research, and travel to any location mentioned in the contents of the book, and inherits all possible findings.

Also, no matter her choice, my daughter, or her eldest child and/or heir, shall receive one butterscotch lollipop.