What’s Left of a Life

Her muscles ached. After all, she was used to an office job. A lawyer by trade, this manual labor was not something that she was accustomed to. It felt good, yes, to be active and out in the country air. A far cry from the city blocks and skyscrapers where she spent most of her days. But, it just plain hurt.

She’d gone through the house already, and was now making her way through the various outbuildings. At present, she was standing in an old run-down barn. She looked around her and contemplated on what it had become, and on the task before her.

Her great-uncle Fred had died and been buried only a month before. He had been 96 years old. Born in 1925, she imagined all the things that he’d witnessed throughout his long life. Several wars, in fact he had the paraphernalia he’d swiped off of dead Nazis during his stint in the Army during the War. A Great Depression. A Great Recession. Periods of famine, and of great economic prosperity. Desegregation. Racial wars. The fall of the twin towers. And, the leaps in science. A trip to the moon and satellites in space providing global positioning data. He was born in a home that had no electricity or indoor plumbing. And, here, it was 2021, with social media, instant communication, and robots that vacuumed for you.

Fred’d spent his life on that farm. It was passed from his father, and from his father before, and his father before, going all the way back to the original land grant in 18-something-something. None of Fred’s siblings had wanted to keep or work the land. They’d all moved away from cattle farming life, moved to the cities, went to universities and trade schools, and got jobs in offices and factories. They weren’t interested in the small town life of Tallderson any more. And, so, Fred kept the farm. It was respectably sized, at 190 acres. Too hilly for crops. But good for cattle. He lived there and he cared for his parents until they passed, one by one. He married, and started his adult life there. They’d tried and tried and tried for a child. But it was never to happen for them. For his generation, reproductive technology just wasn’t what it is today. And so after three miscarriages and several years of waiting and trying, they’d settled on never having children, inasmuch as adoption wasn’t something that he was willing to consider.

In the old, run-down barn, she could see the remnants of the old long-ago shuttered cattle operation. Two old tractors sat there. Would they start? What might they fetch at auction? Feeding apparatuses, and corrals, and…. something…. that was probably used for milking.

She was a city mouse, not a country mouse, and all of these things stymied her a bit. But, well, she was the administrator of Fred’s estate, after all. A Last Will and Testament was non-existent. And, so, everything passed to spouse. But spouse was dead gone on 20 years. No kids. So, the law says in that circumstance it goes to the siblings of the deceased. But he outlived them all. So it goes down one more generation. And, so on. Just like a bar exam question. No one at the county probate court had even seen quite so convoluted lines of succession in real life, and she could hear the clerks gossiping in the background whenever she did need to physically go there to the anciently old courthouse.

She was the grand-niece. There were other “grands.” Several, in fact. Five nephews and four nieces. And seventeen great grands in the lines of succession. Out of all of those people, she was the only one to step up. Fred hadn’t named anyone to take care of anything. He apparently was too afraid to consider the eventuality that he wouldn’t live forever, or maybe he was just too overwhelmed by it all. And, so, with no guidance at all, but a lot of work to be done, someone had to take charge.

Oh, everyone hoped for their money, of course. They wanted to know what happened to this antique, or that valuable, or some such. But no one wanted to put in any work. Typical. She would get paid for her work, in addition to her cut of the inheritance. Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t have taken any administration fees at all, just grateful to be able to honor her loved one. But, sure as anything, if the various and sundry relatives who cared precisely no whits for Fred during his life were going to get a windfall after his death, and give her grief about it as she went about the work, she would collect the fee allowable by law.

This was just awful. She mourned Fred. While they weren’t especially close, she had know him well. She visited often with her father and mother, and had truly enjoyed his company. He was a private person, after all. Even when he passed, it was several days before he was found, and his body was…. Shall we say… A bit “ripe.”

Of course, the small town of Tallderson feigned sorrow. All were “heartbroken” that such a “pillar of the community” had passed. And, she suspected, so many expected to attended the auction of Fred’s estate. Who would pass up a chance to secure a good deal, after all. Under the auspices of “honoring” his memory, of course. And, certainly, to be seen there by the other townsfolk.

She shook her head and continued her inventory of the barn. How sad this was. The end of a life. The stuff. All the “stuff.” Just there, waiting for people to paw over. To purchase for pennies. To “oooohhh” and “ahhhhh.” And to gossip. Golly, she sounded so bitter. She wasn’t, really. She was just… Sad. At the end of a life, this is what it came to? Some fake mourners. Some actual and true family, no matter how distant, that really cared. And. Those who hoped to make a quick buck off of what’s left of a life. She sighed and wiped away a tear, having finished there in the old run-down barn. That’s the last of the outbuildings. Time to bring in the auctioneer for tagging and final sale preparations.