...Valdosta and back was about what I had thought. The meeting with judge and attorneys in Probate Court pretty much as I expected: a 'non-event'. I was markedly unconcerned about the whole thing, surprising even myself by the lack of anxiety when thinking about possible outcomes. And it turned out just about as anticipated. With the thoroughly documented history of her decline by the doctor who has been seeing the auntie for a number of years, I felt like it was a sure thing that the judge would determine there was a need for some 'adult supervision'.
I continued to harbor a remote hope, right up until the last minute, when the very capable Judge came back into the courtroom after a brief recess. Thinking that someone else may volunteer, suddenly step up and offer to be the person who would serve as the guardian and conservator for the failing auntie. I was more than willing to be graceful (and grateful) for anyone who would suddenly pop out of a closet and say: 'I'll do it.'
Judge Powell left us to our own devices, and stepped out to do some sort of research, or maybe just hit 'print' on her computer. There sat the four of us: two attorneys and two witnesses, chatting as breezily as if we were sitting in the shade drinking lemonade. When Judge Powell returned she read the form she had completed, and gave us all a copy. Designating the (now anxious) me as the person who would be responsible for the care and maintenance of the auntie.
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