Splitting Heirs

My father remarried when I was 16. His new wife sold her house, divided the proceeds among her three children, and moved into my father’s house. Over the 30 years they were married, she always spoke of having five children, including my brother and me. My father died in 2009 without a will; his estate transferred to her. From talks I’d had with him, he wished to provide for her with us children receiving what was left. She died last year and left everything to her three kids. I am having a hard time dealing with raging emotions. The betrayal of my brother and me is one thing; the betrayal of my father, who supported her and her children, is hard to swallow.

Estate matters can be so emotionally fraught because money becomes the final voucher, a surrogate for the value of love, recognition, and approval over a lifetime. To be left with nothing at a parent’s death, especially despite promises otherwise, leads you to question all the love, approval, and good will that came before. At best it is disorienting and distressing. At worst it is world-shattering and leads to questioning everything else you were told or led to believe growing up. And that says nothing about the dashed expectations of inheritance you lived with for years.

Your father, unfortunately, never codified his wishes. They remained just that—wishes, not binding instructions. It is likely that he, too, believed in his wife—or wanted to. There is significant pain in never knowing for sure what his wishes and expectations were. Uncertainty—especially involving your value to a parent—is tough.

Like many men, your father felt it his first duty to support his wife for the rest of her life. He could have made legal arrangements to do that while guaranteeing that you and your brother shared in the estate upon her death. But he didn’t. Perhaps he didn’t face the issue because it meant contemplating his own death—or he thought he could override his lack of planning with the promises of his wife. It’s small comfort that few parents consider—or want to consider—whether their estate plans will create tension among their heirs. Necessary as they are, conversations about inheritance are difficult to have.

Being denied your father’s assets by your stepmother is not just a broken promise and an act of unfairness, it is a measure of her character. You and your brother played fair; she didn’t. You honored your father’s marriage; she didn’t honor his family. You likely feel doubly cheated—by her failure to give you what any account of fairness would consider your inheritance and by having accorded her so much good will over the years. Nevertheless, if some or all the assets pre-dated the marriage, you may have a legal claim to explore.

Instead of inheriting some tangible recognition of your existence, your bequest is the jumble of emotions that follow betrayal—shock, anger, disappointment, loss and grief, the wound to self-esteem, and the coup de grâce of doubt about basic relationships. It’s a large load to carry. But at some point, you have to accept the unfairness created by the shortcomings of others.