Maybe, Maybe Not -- Kerry

My aunt died Friday. She was worth four million dollars, most of which her husband embezzled from my father, his brother, in a complicated ponzi scheme worthy of Hollywood. She wrote her son and all family inheritors out of her will except her two daughters. The details are too vast to encompass in these short spaces. Let's just summarize it with this: someday that money would have been, at least partially, mine.
Would it have changed my deepest desires to be a writer, or a mother who is present for my children, or start an organic farm?
Maybe, maybe not.
Once again the crazy drama in my life is like a cast of characters from Falcon Crest meets Dallas with my aunt in her starring role as Cruella Deville. The two girl cousins who are inheriting all of the money are too cheap to pay for the funeral at the country club, where my aunt was an institution, and instead are having a paltry lunch at the local deli. This would have horrified my socialite Aunt and is the only bit of hilarity I can find in the situation.
I ponder this incongruous ending at the deli to a fifty-year old family drama.
"A happiness that is sought for ourselves alone can never be found...True happiness is found in unselfish love, a love that increases in proportion as it is shared," wrote author M.J. Ryan.
I am trying to believe this.