When my dad died almost three months ago, I told myself two things: One, that I wasn’t going back to Montana due to another death in the family and two, that I wasn’t going to get involved, because my father and I were estranged. I’d said my peace years ago, and given that he’d made it clear he no longer considered me to be his daughter, handling his affairs didn’t feel right. However, it soon became clear that not getting involved wasn’t really an option- I was his next of kin, and no one else seemed to be up for this massive undertaking.
Being named representative of Dad’s estate means selling his home, which meant opening up an estate account. Unfortunately, that required me to go to Montana because the court documents didn’t state that I could open an estate account anywhere other than Montana. Because of the Patriot Act, I would have to be there in person to do so.
Looks like I lied to myself…twice.
Thankfully, my brother (in spirit) Brett was up to the task of driving us from Fort Collins to Butte, MT. Because I have a phobia of driving on the highway, a road trip with me means you will do all the driving. I provide the food and entertainment- I also apologize repeatedly when both fall short.
After ten hours on the road, Brett and I finally arrived at our hotel. We immediately noticed a huge red water stain on the wall. The indoor pool, which was a highly touted amenity, was out of order- probably not a bad thing. The entire staff seemed to be high on drugs…I’m gonna go with meth, as it’s on the cheaper side. I had reserved two rooms for three days. The gentleman at the desk said he had me down for one room, but it had a king size bed so… “That’s not the point, I paid for two rooms!” I yelled. “Oh, yeah, I see that now. Let me check to see if they’re ready,” he exclaimed. I was confused because check-in time was at 3pm and it was now 4:30, until he explained that half their cleaning crew had recently quit. Luckily (or not), our rooms were in fact ready, so we took a look before bringing up our bags. The furniture had stains all over it. The carpet was the consistency/color of Astro turf. Most of the lights were out and it was really, really filthy. “This is without a doubt, the worst hotel I’ve ever stayed in,” Brett mused. To make matters worse, there was a Marriott across the street and a Hilton Inn just down the road, seemingly taunting us and making a mockery of my poor choice.
I should note that initially I had booked us flights on Priceline. I got the hotel through them as well. Because I also planned on paying for a rental car, I chose a hotel that was a “top pick” and budget friendly. As it turned out, there was a rental car shortage on the east coast and therefore Butte sent ALL their cars out of town. Because I could not get a rental car, I had to cancel the flight asap. The hotel however, was non-refundable, the reason for which became evidently clear upon seeing it. Thus, we (Brett) drove and stayed in a generously-rated two star hotel.
But enough about the hotel, because that was merely the tip of a quickly melting iceberg.
After Brett and I grabbed dinner and were heading back, I got a call from my Uncle Don. I was happy to hear his voice- that is until he began asking if I was going to give him money for the house. I had let it be known that in addition to opening an estate account, I would be meeting with a realtor while in Montana.
According to him, when my grandma passed away, it was agreed between the three brothers that my dad would move into the house. The deed to the house was also put in Dad’s name. However, during this particular phone call, Uncle Don said that when Grandma passed they could have sold it and split it three ways (which would’ve made sense), but since they didn’t, now my uncles were owed their fair share. I said nothing. I hung up. I was in absolute shock. I had no idea he felt this way. If I had, I would’ve let both uncles hire attorneys and let them figure it out! But it was now two and a half months since Dad passed, and handling his affairs has consumed my life. No mention of this until NOW?! Furthermore, both uncles are pushing eighty and there was no guarantee they would outlive Dad, so when exactly had they planned on getting their “fair share”?
I was exhausted from being on the road all day. I was also disheartened because I’d bought into the notion that somehow Dad’s passing would bring me closer to this side of the family.
What I would soon discover is that nothing about this trip was what it seemed…