Do we all fantasize about an out-of-the-blue inheritance from a long lost aunt or uncle? I do. But in my real life, I’ve had exactly the opposite experience. My Dad’s dad, Russell, was a second generation Irish immigrant. His family settled here in the Traverse City area, but during the automobile boom he moved to Detroit for factory employment. My father was a teenager by then and he and my mother would become high school sweethearts.

By the time I was a teen my grandparents had retired to Florida, but I remained close to my grandfather’s sister, my great Aunt Edith. As I grew older I would come to understand that my parents were not close to her. My Mother particularly, although my Mother was an angel incarnate and never complained or said a bad word about anyone. I would always make sure Aunt Edith, who was alone, was invited to all the holiday dinners and family events. My parents were always polite and accepting.

Aunt Edith and I would come to blows early in my adult life. She did not approve of me at all. I divorced my abusive alcoholic husband for starters. That was not allowed in her church. To make matters worse, I had “colored” friends. And they visited my home – in the same neighborhood where she lived, no less! I was the one who was ruining the neighborhood. And I was a smart aleck. When she was berating me, I asked her exactly what kind of Christianity they were teaching in that church of hers, and she actually threw a bible at me.

When Aunt Edith passed away she left a three million dollar estate to her next of kin, her brothers. She had inherited that money from her estranged husband (at least she wasn’t divorced!) who owned a string of shady motels along 8 Mile Road during Detroit’s boom years. But that’s a story for another day. Edith’s four brothers had preceded her in death, including my grandfather. Her brother’s children would inherit from her, of which my father was one fifth. Because I was the only remaining member of my family who had any contact with her the attorney had to enlist me to help him find her nephews. They were scattered around the country and in fact she had never met most of them. None of them had seen or heard of her in decades. I was the only one who had any idea where they lived. In my youthful naivete, I had asked Aunt Edith to talk about her family to me. I wanted to know.

And so, those cousins I had never met inherited money from a long lost aunt they had never known. My father lived in Florida at the time, under an alias, as he was hiding from the law. His children would never see a dime of that money; my guess is it all went up his nose.

I was the only member of my immediate family named in Aunt Edith’s will. She left me $1500. and her personal belongings, including her 20 year old car – which my father insisted on buying from me. He reneged once I handed him the title. “Well you didn’t pay for it, so why should I pay you?” he said. He continued to badger me for her belongings until one day I said, “Dad – I have nothing left to give you unless I start making payments to you out of my own earnings.” He hung up on me, and it would be over 20 years before I’d hear of him again.

My favorite British streaming service has a new series that premiered this week, Irish Blood. It tells the story of a woman who inherits a home on an Irish loch from her estranged father. She inherits his troubles as well, and has to deal with the criminal thugs he was involved with. Similarly, I did inherit my father’s troubles. Newly divorced with a young toddler, we lived in the suburbs of Detroit. I was being harassed by federal agents looking for my Dad. Men in black suits would wake me pounding on the door late at night demanding to know his whereabouts – which fortunately I did not know.

I’m out of aunts and uncles and parents and a brother and most of my cousins. I’m the old matriarch now, and I’m still waiting for the house on an Irish loch.