SIX GENERATIONS OF FIRST BORN WOMEN: TIME TO...

It's 6 p.m. and I just left Frank's office in downtown Boston. He's working on my will. A trusted lawyer and true friend, I always turn to him when legal advice is needed. It's strange trying to propel myself forward in time, thinking about how things will be after my death. I'm completely detached from it. In one sense I don't care what happens, being the rather self centered person that I am, once I'm gone, that's it. People who knew you will react depending on the relationship. There's not much you can do to control peoples feelings once you are gone. Wills are a way people have of maintaining some illusion about controlling events, even in death.

However, I found myself getting extremely involved in the convolutions that legal language demands, all the "what if's?" and extenuating circumstances. It's virgin territory as I tend to see things in terms of here and now. Future predictions and imaginings can open up a Pandora's Box. I made a big mistake in my divorce by not taking Frank's advice in some area's. I don't want to make a similar mistake. Most people define their relationships through the negotiations of their lawyers, but I want things to be as simple and straight forward as possible. My desire is to just leave whatever I have left worth having, certainly the house, to my daughter. But then there's all my paintings, a lifetime of work. It's really more of a burden than a gift.

Last night Bill said I was talking in my sleep. He had difficulty sleeping at all. Ever since RG and I saw the movie 'Brazil', I've been having a more active dream life with overtones of impending disaster. RG tapped into my anxiety and said I should have a will. He was the one who pushed me in this direction, even said he'd pay Frank's fee. Maybe he's imagining I'd leave all my worldly goods to him.