Mom goes with me everywhere, literally



Tippecanoe County Courthouse



Many of you have heard my stories over the past eight years of my mom’s long good-bye with dementia.  Well, mom died in late March, but here eight months later, I faced yet another unusual issue that came up shortly after we got back to Indiana. 



My mom was receiving benefits through the VA through a representative payee account, which was frozen upon her death.  When she died, VA said they would claw back the April allowance, which they did five months later, a lot later than promised.  In contrast, Social Security clawed theirs back within a couple of days.  I was getting ready to close this account, but the bank told me I couldn’t unless I had a transfer of assets form completed.  Here’s where it gets interesting:  Mom lived/died in Ohio; I live in Florida; account created in Indiana.  Lots of misdirection by the bank and for a brief time I thought I would have to drive to Ohio to get their county form to do this (as if!!).  I was ready to say “forget it” since the account had only $5 in it.  But the bank decided to dun the account for service fees!!  So, I had to do something to close it; now the adventure begins.  



Several years ago I got in the habit of storing my mom’s personal documents, records, etc. in a backpack.  This made it easier when dealing with different offices where I was always asked for some obscure document in some bizarre “go fish” game.  So off I went to the county courthouse, grabbing the backpack for my latest “go fish” round.  Not thinking, I marched up the steps and saw two Sheriff’s deputies, a scanner and metal detectors.  Oh, oh, trouble!!  I forgot that I had a rolled, sealed bubble mailer which contained some of my mother’s ashes I had carted up for a memorial in Indiana.  It looked like a large burrito   I stopped in the doorway and explained what I had in my backpack, fully expecting to be tazed or thrown to the ground and cuffed as a terrorist, convinced  they would think “the burrito” was anthrax!  Lucky for me, they were only interested in guns or knives; the burrito didn’t bother them a bit. 



Next stop: the bank (grrr).  After two failed trips to different county offices and bank branches (thanks to misinformation and run-around by BANKERS), I finally had the forms needed to close this account.   So, there “we” are at the bank and I’m taking out documents, forms, ID, blood type (well, not quite) to hand over to the banker.   After gaining approvals, getting the fees reversed and closing the account, I’m trying to stuff everything in the backpack, but am hampered by “the burrito”.  So, I apologized to the banker and took “the burrito” out of my backpack and put it on his desk.  Yup, right there, standing upright.  He didn’t quite “get it” but then a look of disbelief came over his face.  I’m certain that if Mom was alive, she would have given him a piece of her mind over the run-around I got.  Mom; you are not forgotten.