I haven’t written much lately about my miserable existence since my wife of 43 years, Grace Elizabeth Bowen Marshall (who secretly commented here under the screen name “E2”) turned up dead Leap Year morning with no warning. Because I am at heart incompetent at anything other than the things that interest me and I am natively really good at, I am still struggling mightily with the wreckage of my life, home and business in the wake of her demise.
Just yesterday, I discovered an important task regarding legal obligations that I had completely forgotten about because it was in the category of “things Grace does so Jack can concentrate on other stuff.” I discovered it because a friend who is a talented operations whiz has been forcing me to go through files, papers, and accumulated memorabilia, especially in my office, something that I literally would never do without someone a) forcing me and b) telling me how to do it. This has been one of the most painful experiences of my life, because I don’t get enjoyment from nostalgia, only sadness, anger (at myself, mostly) and regrets.
The nasty surprises, especially from the financial side, have been arriving daily. (Sondheim’s “And Another Hundred People Just Got Off Of the Train” comes to mind). That important task I have completely whiffed on is typical of many: this was something Grace and I agreed would be her responsibility, and I happily left it in her usually capable hands for more than thirty years—never thought about it, in fact. Well, because of age, an illness that was worse than I knew and possibly other issues, she had just stopped taking care of this rather important matter for quite a while. Catching up now is going to be difficult, time consuming and expensive. I should have addressed this shortly after she died, but I was not exactly thinking clearly, and I didn’t know what I didn’t know, as Don Rumsfeld would say.
Ethics Alarms 
This is something many surviving spouses deal with, unfortunately, My late grandmother was left alone suddenly after my grandfather collapsed of a heart attack in the kitchen a few hours after a doctor’s appointment. She knew next to nothing about finances and the insurance issues were tangled up so badly my aunt went into debt to pay for the funeral.
She’d modeled briefly in the ’40s. Not professionally. She would model dresses in a department store so that people could see how the clothes fit without trying them on themselves. That was the only job she’d ever had and it did not continue into marriage. Yet, she found herself cleaning tables at McDonald’s a year after becoming a widow. It didn’t last long. She was too ornery for that job. But it really did send us a message about preparing for the long haul. I wish she’d learned the lesson, though. When she passed away a few years ago, there were insurance policies decades old that still listed my grandfather as the beneficiary.
Thanks for the reminder. I know this is a painful time for you.