I inherited my dad's house at 33 after he died unexpectedly. The guilt and embarrassment of suddenly having money was painful.

Gary Nunn and his sister inherited their father's house after he died suddenly.

RedVector/Getty Images

• My dad worked in blue-collar jobs up until the day he died suddenly at 63.
• My sister and I inherited his house and sold it to put deposits down on our own apartments.
• I didn't expect the guilt and self-consciousness that came with inheriting significant assets. 

No one tells you how painful inheritance guilt can be.

My dad died in 2015 when I was 33 and, at that point, had been working for 10 years in PR and communications in the charity sector.

My sister and I inherited the four-bedroom house where he lived alone.

We'd grown up in a more modest, semidetached, three-bedroom house, but Dad had taken on overtime and eventually a second job to afford the mortgage on a bigger second home in 1996.

After many years of hard work, he paid off the mortgage when I was older and living away from home.

He died suddenly at 63. He was still working as a nightclub bouncer when he passed. We knew we'd inherit the house and his possessions; he'd told us we were the only people in his will.

My sister and I were catapulted into shock, grief, and a bureaucratic nightmare

I was living in Australia when we got the news. My sister was in the UK, where we grew up. I managed to get my employer to agree to give me a couple of weeks off to fly back.

When someone dies unexpectedly, their affairs are often not in order. My sister and I were suddenly responsible for a bewilderingly long list of administrative tasks. We had to navigate these logistics while dealing with waves of grief.

There were dozens of jobs to do before we could consider our potential inheritance: paying and settling all my dad's bills, contracts, and taxes and hiring a funeral director, a secular celebrant, and a solicitor.

We also had to apply for a death certificate, which took two weeks to come through — meanwhile, everything's on hold until you have that document.

I had to leave my father's wake early to manage the estate administration

Everyone was still toasting my dad at his funeral about three weeks after he died. But my uncle and I had to get to the solicitor's office to start the probate process.

My uncle, my dad's brother, was the executor of his estate. He struggled with computer and legal literacy and processing his own grief. I offered to help guide him in his executor duties.

My sister and I agreed to sell the house and use any proceeds to help put down deposits on our own homes. We then had to hire a real-estate agent. Death turns you into a hiring manager.

We had two weeks to put our dad's house on the market, clear out 40 years of memories, and decide what to do with all his possessions.

Clearing out and valuing the house was hellish

We were both young and still renting small flats. Confronted with keeping or throwing away a lifetime worth of stuff, we had to get rid of a lot because we had no storage.

Watching the removal van take everything to the dump was a brutal experience.

No one told us that everything in a deceased person's estate must be itemized for probate so an accurate inheritance tax can be applied. In the UK, you have to pay a 40% tax on inheritances worth over £325,000, or about $395,000.

The contents of the property, no matter how small, must be listed. The probate officer asked about everything: my dad's car, all his furniture, even his kitchen utensils. It was hellish. We then had to hire a licensed surveyor to value the house.

The inheritance tax in the UK feels grossly unfair

Whether you're working two full-time jobs to make ends meet like my dad or a multibillionaire, you pay 40% on any assets over the £325,000 threshold.

We weren't some aristocratic family born into wealth. Dad had worked his way up from nothing through working-class jobs and had paid his taxes all the way through. It felt unfair.

It took me a long time to accept the inheritance

I was almost embarrassed by suddenly having money. It seems silly now — I should feel proud of how hard my dad worked to provide for us.

I immediately put all the money into buying a flat with my roommate. We'd rented the flat together and the owner was selling. It felt much more secure to buy with a friend than a romantic partner.

On a day-to-day level, my cash-in-hand spending didn't change much, but I felt much more financially secure for the future.

Whenever anyone brought up my inheritance, I shut them down

I hated when people asked about it or, worse, congratulated me for it; their interest felt intrusive and their praise unearned. My friends would jokingly toast me "to being a HOMOwner" — a pun on me being gay. But my usual jollity felt stunted by grief, guilt, and the complex feelings I was struggling to unpack.

The money didn't feel like mine and neither, to a certain extent, did the flat. Over time, it has felt more like mine. We've redecorated and the new floors, paint, and carpets were paid for by money I had earned, not Dad. I guess some of it comes down to pride.

Dad was still working when he died

He hadn't enjoyed a day of retirement. The money I was benefiting from should've been for him to enjoy. It seemed contrary to the natural order of things. I'd give it all back for him to enjoy even just a month of his retirement.

Inheriting half of my dad's estate also sent me into an identity crisis.

I was no longer the working-class kid pulling himself up by his bootstraps. It made me someone else, someone I was uncomfortable with. I'd spent my adult life discussing egalitarianism, social mobility, and battling inherited privilege as a journalist in social and political affairs.

Who was I now I had money? I didn't know anymore.

I didn't dare share these conflicting feelings with anyone for fear of sounding ungrateful or insensitive.

I'm a sharer, so keeping this to myself felt both wise and isolating. I wanted to be tactful. Now, the money left over after my mortgage and flat payments is money I've earned fairly, but I've become more relaxed about spending it on holidays like cruises.

Nearly a decade later, I see things differently

I could've blown the money on partying and traveling the world — temporary, hedonistic things Dad wouldn't have approved of. His legacy is now in the bricks-and-mortar I coown with my flatmate.

My father's sudden death did teach me an important lesson: I should work hard, but the money I earn should be spent on things I enjoy, given my dad didn't get enough time to relax and appreciate his hard-earned wealth.

Read the original article on Business Insider

from Business Insider https://ift.tt/O6Vq0NI
via IFTTT