I sat there with those memories until the silence felt almost familiar.
Then I went home and finally slept.
The following morning, I called Gerald again.
I wanted to understand exactly what being executor allowed me to do. He patiently explained that my responsibility was to guide the probate process and keep everything moving fairly. I couldn’t decide the future of the house on my own, but I could establish a reasonable timeline and oversee the process.
“How much time do I have?” I asked.
“The estate doesn’t close overnight,” he said. “A few months of thoughtful consideration is entirely reasonable.”
“And if Derek and Amber press for a faster timeline?”
“They can press,” Gerald said. “The executor manages the pace.”
I thanked him.
Over the next two weeks, I buried myself in paperwork. I contacted banks, utility companies, insurance providers, and every institution that needed notification. Organizing those practical details gave me something concrete to focus on while grieving.
