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Dad and taxes

April 13, 2009

My father does our taxes.  I’m very aware of how lucky I am to have a father who is an accountant and who takes care of this for me for free.

This year it took a long time for me to send the tax information to him.  I knew I needed to do it but just kept procrastinating until I had to express mail the forms from work, note from my student loan holder, pay stubs, and copies of Teddy’s birth and death certificates.  Did I mention that, after that long afternoon when I sat in the Social Security Office, waiting to get a SSN for Teddy, I received a letter from Social Security telling me that they wouldn’t give us a number?  Knowing that ahead of time would have been helpful.  I wish there was a course or an online tutorial on paperwork for the babylost, or even a list of what to do when in terms of certificates, social security, taxes, etc.

So on our tax return, we’ve attached copies of birth and death certificates.

When I sent those forms to Dad, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, pretty pathetic.  I didn’t even think of how hard it would be for him, as my dad, as Teddy’s grandfather, to get that return ready for us.  No grandfather should have to do that.  No person should have to do that.

Saturday, our tax return arrived in the mail, ready for us to sign and mail to the IRS.  Dad sent us a note with it, telling us it was the hardest return he’d ever had to do, that he couldn’t imagine what it must be like for us, that he’s glad we have each other.

I’m glad we have him, that he’s not afraid to acknowledge this loss that is his loss, too.  I wish this wasn’t so difficult for him, but at the same time it helps that he’s mourning with us.  I’m also glad we’re done with worrying about taxes for the year.

I called yesterday to wish my parents a happy Easter, and told Dad thanks, thanks for doing this.  I am grateful.

And I am angry.  We should be planning visits back and forth, talking about how fast Teddy is growing.  And Dad should be playing with his grandson, tickling him into fits of giggles, telling him tall tales, someday teaching him how to fish.

Those “shoulds,” they’ll drive me crazy.

Love you, Dad.

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6 comments

  1. i fear that the ‘shoulda’s will hunt us till the end of our days


  2. I feel so guilty for all I deprived the grandparents of. Hope was the first. I know its not essentially my fault, but I still hate it. It all sits very uncomfortably with me. I feel such a great responsibility to provide them with another grandchild, one they can tickle the feet of and read stories to. Not one they have to attend the funeral of.


  3. Sigh. All the shouldas make me so sad.


  4. Our parents hold their own loss, and hold ours with us. I can’t imagine what it was like for your dad to prepare your taxes this year. Maybe it felt a little bit good that he could do something helpful amid so much he can’t do. He sounds like a very special dad. Sending you all love.


  5. *hugs* Yes, the grandparents grieve too. I think I forget that until they mention something so absentmindedly that it just knocks me to the ground.

    And the shouldas suck and never go away. 😦


  6. I’m sorry – about taxes, the SSN and the shoulds. I’m glad your dad is able to acknowledge how much he misses Teddy – it warms a mother’s heart.



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