Chapter 4: It Couldn't Get Any Worse, Could It?

I moped around the house for a couple of days. Then, my dad came to me and said "you're coming to work for me as an apprentice carpenter for the summer." That I found out was a glorified term for a "go-fer as in, go for this, go get that, get coffee, etc. Well at least I was out of the house, earning some money for school in the fall. I also was learning the importance of a good education. Every night I would come home exhausted from running around the job site, carrying fifty pound boxes of nails, two by fours, and sheets of plywood, in between my trips to the local seven- eleven for coffee and buttered rolls.

Then came the Fourth of July week-end, three days off alone: my parents were driving to LA for an overdue vacation. They left Friday night and weren't due back until Monday night. I spent the Friday night making plans to meet up with some of my friends from school on Saturday night. Saturday morning I was awakened by the door bell. I slipped on a pair of pants and looking out I saw Ed and Katherine Brady, along with a state trooper. I opened the door, they asked to come in. I could see on their faces that they had bad news. My parents had made it to LA and were out walking in front of their hotel when a group of rival gang members began shooting at one another. My parents were caught in the initial barrage of gun fire and were killed instantly. When the police went though their pockets, they found my father's business cards and contacted Ed. Katherine held me as the realization that my parents were dead hit me. For the next couple of days I walked around like a zombie. They insisted that I stay at their house. They made the funeral arrangements and helped me cope with the fact that I was alone. Both my parents were only children, there were no living relatives. After the funeral, I insisted on staying in my own house. The night was the worst. I could still feel their presence in the house. Any minute I felt that they would be walking through the door, that this was all a bad dream. But, that didn't happen; reality sucks.

One day I got a phone call from Ed asking me to come with him. We had to meet with my parent's attorney for the reading of their will. Of course, I was the sole heir, but with a little wrinkle. Because the will was about ten years old, they had stipulated that a trust be set up to hold any assets that might have been left to me until I reached the age of twenty one. This posed a real problem in that, the house still had a mortgage that would be required to be paid and the expenses of upkeep, real estate taxes, insurance, and utilities would also have to be paid by the trust. Even with my parents life insurance there would not be enough funds to cover these expenses for the next four years while I completed my college education. The decision was made to sell the house, pay off the mortgage and invest the remainder of the cash. Since Ed was the trustee, he could make those decisions. Just as well, I didn't have the knowledge or the experience to make them for myself.

For the next couple of weeks, Katherine helped me go through my parents things. We donated most of their clothes to charity and held an estate sale to sell what we could of the furniture and other personal property. It was agreed that those proceeds would be deposited in a bank account for my use while I was at school. The house was sold by the end of August and I left for school a couple of days later.