Copacabana, Rio de Janeiro: 32oC, hot and sunny.
My Uncle Mick-Part 2. It will have been. Two years this November. That is my Uncle Mick. Had died. As I said yesterday.
He was an incredibly good man, very good for me. He had married three times. The first was to a Swindler, the second to an Angel and the third to a sociopath.
I lost contact with my uncle for about 10 years. This happened while I was going through my second separation and dealing with the demands of running my school, which consumed all my time. Unbeknownst to me, he had moved, sold his old house, and relocated near where I lived as a child in Wollaston. To my surprise, my uncle moved to the next street from where I grew up in Wollaston. His new house is in front of the primary school I attended when I was five.
Wollaston is a middle to upper-class village district of Stourbridge. Stourbridge is the predominant town with many other connected villages or districts. My grandmother lived all her life in a council house on a council estate in Wordsley, whereas my brother and I lived and grew up in Wollaston.
England remains a very classist society. I grew up seeing the difference between the reality of where I lived and the reality of where my grandparents lived. When I visited my grandparents, it was evident that I went to a poorer neighbourhood than where I lived.
When my parents divorced, my mother had to move back to Wordsley because she did not have the means to stay in Wollaston. In a way, I see it as a form of divine justice since we were only living in Wollaston because of my father’s work and business. When my parents separated, my mother had to return to her hometown.
My uncle was a volunteer worker on the Severn Valley Railway, an NGO that preserves a steam engine railway line track of approximately twenty miles between Kidderminster and Bridgnorth in the heart of the English countryside. This was the only way I could contact him. After sending a couple of emails, I received a number and resumed regular contact with him, calling him once every week or fortnight.
After resuming contact, I discovered that my uncle’s stepdaughter, from his first marriage to the swindler, whom he had not had contact with for more than 40 years, had begun to have contact with him again. My intuition told me something was wrong then, but I never said anything. He would visit his stepdaughter by train, who lived in another city, twice or thrice a year. She would never go to see him there in Wollaston, which I thought would be maybe because of his sociopathic wife. Who knows?
During the last three years of his life, my uncle repeatedly asked me to send him my contact details as he wanted to include me in his will. For two years, I had not done anything. I did not call him every month or maintain contact with him for some financial gain, but only because he was an important person and reference in my life.
In the last six months of his life, I finally gave in and sent my contact details through his stepdaughter, Tracy, as he did not use the internet, email, WhatsApp, etc. He confirmed that he had received the details and had given them to his lawyer. I did not think much of it, and time continued to pass.
My uncle passed away in October. In February of the following year, I went to Teresópolis for Carnival, the first carnival after the pandemic. I went with Katia, a friend of mine, and we stayed on a farm approximately twenty kilometres outside Teresópolis. Teresópolis is a small mountain town approximately one hundred kilometres from Rio. Due to its mountainous location, the climate is perfect, with clean, fresh air, cool temperatures at night, and warm, sunny days.
The owner of the farm became a friend of mine. He was selling a piece of land on his farm as he was getting old and did not want so much land to administer. I had a look at the land. It was a two-half-acre piece of land that went up the side of a small hill. The land was covered with over one thousand tall, 20-meter-high eucalyptus trees.
The day was both sunny and with a little breeze. The breeze passed through the trees, making it appear like they were talking. They moved and spoke at the same time. I felt like I was in heaven. I thought this could be my home to live, rest, and eventually die in.
The price of the land was very reasonable, not expensive. However, I needed this money. My Uncle Nick said that what he had left for me was not a significant amount, just a little money. But with the exchange rates between the pounds and the Real, it was very advantageous. The minimum amount from England would quickly help to pay for this land.
When I returned from Carnival, I contacted Tracy, my uncle’s stepdaughter. She told me that Alan, my uncle’s Stepson from his third marriage to the sociopath, was the reader and executor of the will and that he had not done anything yet. Again, my intuition was ringing like an alarm bell, and that something was strange. Even more than six months after my uncle passed away, they had not read his will yet.
I also found it strange that she did not want to give me Alan’s contact information and left everything unresolved. If it is not resolved soon, I will take care of it when I go to England. This was a year and a half ago, and nothing has been resolved two years later.
Now that I have a date to go to England today, I sent a message to Tracy asking about the situation. She told me that Allen was ill and in the hospital, and the will had not been read yet, two years after my uncle’s death. I found this very strange. I will ask if this is normal when I go to England to take my mother’s documents about her trust. Again, my intuition is telling me that something is wrong. My uncle had insistently asked for my contact details, emphasising the importance of my inclusion. And now, after two years, supposedly nothing has been done.
I would like to know first if I was included. If not, that is okay. I just want to know!!!
I have taught classes to several wealthy families in Rio. When the patriarch or matriarch passed away, complications over money and the division of estate among the heirs often destroyed the family and its assets.
In the future, I plan to buy some land in Terasopolis, Rio. I want to build a tiny house there for myself, and if Yasmin and Jessica want to visit, I will have a place for them. This land captivates me more with each passing day. I cannot stop thinking about its view, the trees, the climate, and the lifestyle I could have there. As I just said, this could be the ideal place for the rest of my life.
Money and family: a highly complex mix at times.
The day consisted of classes, working on the sites, and writing blog posts. Everything is going well.
In bed by 9.30 pm.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
