The letter I wrote to my parentals upon being away and wondering what would befall myself should I have flatlined while fannying about the other side of the world.
Monday June 26 – Written at the base of the Himalayas
Hello MummyDeb & Papa Henio
If you are reading this – alas! – I have departed this life and am somewhere up in the sky. As in my last will-letter, I hope it was a quick Nepalese avalanche atop myself as I slept, rather than the abduction and pillage by a horny Indian man.
Don’t organise returning my body home; I’m not in it. If my passing has come before I go to Europe to see Regan, just make sure someone comes and retrieves his greenstone (though if I am deceased at the hands of a Hindi rapist, he may have used it to strangle me so Reg may not want it back).
BUT: say my travel insurance does cover the return of my bod, hock in on that one; my excess is only $200 so that is a small price to pay for the flight home of my corpse (however mutilated it may be). Should that be the case, I want to be cremated with my ashes to be split six ways.
1. Papa Henio: you are to take your portion of me to France, where you shall watch the Tour De France (a few legs of it) including the last lap of the Champs Elyees, before popping over to Holland and putting me in the Zwammerdam cemetery alongside Will, my g-grandparents and the copious amounts of Hendrik Corneliuses.
2. Mummy Deb: you are to take your portion of me to New York, where you will go and see Carrie’s apartment, and when you find somewhere that feels like “me”, subtly dump some of me there.
3. Both of you: I want you to go together to see a part of my world and happy places; India, to scatter a little of me in the Ganges in the Rishikesh area. I want you to make sure you pay top dollar in India (use whatever money is left in my account – I bequest it to you) to get an air conditioned car to escort you there and then go and stay with Uncle Jamie for a few nights.
4. After India, both of you pop to Nepal and hustle a little of me in the Himalayan mountains. (Better yet, both of you trek up to Base Camp and deposit a portion of me there please).
5. I want a part to go to Regan, where he is to take me to Ireland; I want him to go to the Isle of Man and watch the race he wants to see, then up to Belfast and do the political tour. (And pretend to be as into it as I was). From there he is to take me down to Dublin and walk the city centre with me (he’ll hate that cardio aspect, hehe), before going to the Giant’s Causeway and letting me fly off a cliff. And when he buys his first house to properly live in, he is to plant a Kauri tree in his garden.
6. The sixth part I want buried with Angus – but put me in a pot plant so when you move, I go too. And when Otto eventually goes, put him in the pot with me please. With a Kauri and a Walnut tree. And if you could sometimes maybe come and sit with me – Mum, you can have a yarn, Dad, you don’t need to say anything; just have a Jim Beam and coke – I would love that.
Funeral; I want COLOUR. Everyone to be bright and happy and celebrating the life I had, not all in despair that I’m gone. Don’t spend eons of cash on it; I want a real casual get together, maybe at the ski club or something if that can be swung, where people have a good time and can be happy. Alcohol mandatory.
Anyway. I’m gone. As I did not sort out a will before I went away, hopefully this casual piece of writing shall hold power in distributing my worldly heirlooms.
And let’s face it, I don’t have a fuckton of a lot of worth.
Get rid of anything you want, just please keep the following: my key ring collection (to be left in the possession of you two) (you love it really); my rings (signet and daisy chain to you, MummyDeb, all others to Regan); and my copy of Bampga’s book (to you). I was flirting with the idea of asking you to keep my uni folders, but feel that is quite the ask when there is about 127 of them (well 12, but feels about that). The little table in my room that has the Everest Base Camp material print on it and is topped with the empty Powerade bottle, empty Berrocca tube and number of other little items, as well as the table that has Gloria on it (tell James my dying wish was for him to have her in the corner of his room for the rest of his life hahaha) and other things relating to Nanna, Bampga and Max are incredibly precious to me; just please pop them in a box and put them somewhere safe.
Photo albums; please keep and bring them out every September 6 so you can reminisce about how cool I was. I expect this tradition to be upheld after your passing also, with the Brothers Michael and James getting together to show their kids and their kids and their kids (only then can they be released from the Wortman line).
Also, please hang up my degree and dux certificates in the office so that framing doesn’t go to waste. And my map of the world that you got me last year; as I will never have my own home, please give it a life outside its carry case so it wasn’t a waste of a significant sum of money. Give it to Regan to put in his room.
And PUT THE PAINTING OF ME BACK IN THE LOUNGE. I’m dead, Dad; I think it’s a justified adornment.
Lastly, KiwiSaver to Hendrik in its entirety. Put it in a trust that he can access on his 25th birthday (if you can somehow do that) and tell him it is to be used for his first house deposit.
I think that’s everything. Have everything else as a free-for-all, and then chuck out anything left unclaimed. Maybe take my wardrobe wear to Recycle Boutique – you’ll probably get a fair chunk for a good majority of it Deb, and then go spend it on items for yourself at Rumor. And give my bolster to Regan, with the message he must use it forevermore for his circulation.
I love you guys very much. I have had an incredible upbringing and never wanted for anything. I was so lucky to have been born with you as my parents, and aside from the anger and short-temper gene I inherited from each of you, I think you gave me some pretty good makeup.
I’ll be watching you.
Lots of love, your one & only daughter