In fact I'm a person of integrity. A person of honor. A person who attempts to keep her word.

That's why I am staggered, devastated, amazed about the most recent turn of events in my rather, um, interesting life.

My mother died last Friday. The 6th of June, to be exact, sparing us the irony of having Friday the 13th as a date on which to have an anniversary reaction.

The same day, her lawyer met me at her house and presented me with a copy of her will. Now mind you, I've been a faithful daughter, burning the candle at both ends to spend time with her, hold her hand, do all the right things to be with her at the end for one single reason: I love her.

And then, this.

Her will states that I, her only child, am to be treated as if I have predeceased her.

This is amazing.

As if I am dead.

I'm NOT dead. To the contrary. I'm alive, kicking and in pretty good health (as far as one can know these days, Tim Russert, RIP, being a case in point.)

But my mother was angry. She was angry because I wanted her to take care of her diabetes which destroyed her health. She was angry because I wanted her to get rid of the rodents which infested her home. She was angry because after 10+ years of struggling with this, I had the audacity to petition the court for guardianship.

Our state changed the rules for guardianship right before I petitioned. And I lost. Even though physicians supported the petition. Even though city officials had posted her house as unhabitable twice in three years. Even though she let a diabetic ulcer on her foot go untreated so long that it resulted in amputation. Even though the judge had kind words for me and my intentions as he dismissed the petition, and said he would waive the filing fee when he saw me again in "a few years." Prescient man.

Three years later, she again neglected her health to the point that she became septic. She couldn't be saved. She died a painful and partially avoidable death. That alone is awful.

The last two weeks of her life she kept crying and telling me she was sorry. Now I know why.

What makes this worse is also ironically humorous.

I learned early this week that last year, she bought a .38, allegedly with which to protect herself. Our state (yahoo! the wild, wild west) allowed an 80 year old woman in a wheelchair, in obviously bad health and with an obvious hand tremor, to buy a gun AND to become licensed to carry it after spending some time attempting to shoot some targets. God bless the NRA and the card-carrying member (ersatz friend) who took her to the gun show and helped her buy it.

Sorry, but I think that's abhorrent. There is something really, really wrong with a system that allows a person with documented self-neglect, who has been diagnosed with mild dementia (not to mention a myriad of other physical ailments) to become the licensed owner of a lethal firearm.

And that's the end of my grief-impacted rant of this evening.

Good night and good luck.