Everything is Horrible and Wonderful: A Tragicomic Memoir of Genius, Heroin, Love, and Loss

by Stephanie Wittels Wach

It’s both an honor and a punishment to be the person in charge of your estate. There’s a lot of shit to notarize and fax and scan and fill out and keep track of and document and follow up with and put into piles and file in folders. And I’m terrible at filing. My skill set really ends at making piles. There are just so many things that need to get done in a timely manner. We weave a complicated web in our time here on earth, and untangling it amounts to copious forms to fill out and battles with fax machines and conversations with customer service reps that go like this: “I am calling because my brother died, and I need to close/cancel (fill in the blank).” At first, these words were impossible to say; uttering them made it real, and I would inevitably break down and cry into the phone to a stranger working off a script. But I’ve said them so many times now that it’s become entirely unemotional. When they say the obligatory, “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I respond with a quick “thanks” and scurry on to the reason for my call. I’m certain they aren’t sorry for my loss, so it’s ever so slightly insulting. Plus, I just want to get on with it.