Reality is a Bitch

When Cherry died, she was alone. Not necessarily lonely but alone. She had wheeled herself out onto the wide veranda that wrapped itself around the house and found a space amongst the old books, newspapers and other junk that someone else would have to sort through. That made her smile. The vultures had been hovering for some time now, direct descendants, distant relatives, the neighbour who kept the garden in some semblance of order. Cherry had stopped speaking to them a long time ago, around about the time they started to try and get her out of the home she had lived in for more years than she cared to remember. Brochures for shiny retirement villages modelled by actors with perfectly coiffed hair and bright smiles had started to appear. Hints about how much happier she would be if she just had one room to worry about, how lovely it would be if she made new friends. 'Fuck off,' Cherry thought.

When the time came, she had positioned herself where she could catch the last rays of tropical sunshine, drained her glass of wine, the last of the last good bottle from the wine rack, and, looking out over the garden down towards the lake, gently sighed out her last breath.

That had been a month ago, and now the house had been stripped bare, de-cluttered, sanitised and scrubbed ready for sale, even though Cherry's Will had not yet been read. Today was the big day. The descendants, relatives and the neighbour who tended the garden, sat on folding chairs on the very veranda where Cherry had passed and waited with bated breath as the family solicitor, a man well into his eighties, unfolded one sheet of paper. He began to read out loud.

"I, Cherry Hermione Blass, of 50 Camelia Court, declare this to be my last Will and Testament. I will keep it brief, for I have little to say to any of you. My wish is that all of my possessions, including the property at Camelia Court, be sold and the proceeds donated to the charities listed below. I leave you all to wonder, to speculate upon what led me to make this decision. I hope at least some of you will emerge as better people. At the very least, perhaps you can reflect on your behaviour towards me over the years and try not to make the same errors of judgement again. And that is all."

The solicitor re-folded the paper and took in the incredulous looks on the faces of his gathered audience. Nobody said a word. Their expressions said it all. There really wasn't much speculation to indulge in. Every last one of the people crowded onto the veranda of the big house knew only too well why Cherry had disinherited them. Reality is a bitch.