If you haven’t already, read parts one, two, three, four and five of this series.
My lawyer called me with good news finally. My Aunts had decided to renounce their roles as executors of my mom’s estate. I sincerely couldn’t believe it. I wanted to jump up and click my heels in celebration. This meant two less assholes I had to deal with. It also meant a lot more, which I’ll get to in a bit.
How it was going to work was, my lawyer was going to write up the agreement that would state that my aunts were going to resign. Then it would request me and my brother would become co-executors….but there was one more thing. My lawyer was going to also add in a stipulation that no one could stand in place of me or my brother. This meant Satan could shove her power of attorney form for my brother, up her ass. It is completely useless here.
It was now the late may. My lawyer wrote up the agreement and I went down to his office to sign it. After that we waited weeks. I started to get nervous that they weren’t going to sign. Finally I found out that my couldn’t seem to get in contact with their lawyer. He wasn’t returning calls. After several times of me asking for updates, and so I wondered if that was just my lawyer making excuses or if that was really the case. I know this sounds crazy but, I was going to try to call their lawyers office and see if I could get him on the phone. I wasn’t going to talk to him . I searched his name on google so I could get his number. As I’m looking I see this PDF in my search results, with his name on it. I opened it up and found the biggest surprise I can imagine. Apparently their lawyer and some of his buddies of his decided it would be a good idea to come up with a fake medical marijuana company and sell fake stocks to people! All in all they made over $8 million dollars! I shit you not. This guy is in some pretty deep shit and owes the Feds over $4million, so he may be a bit of trouble. A few days later I decided to drive by his office and I had realized that his law practice was no longer in business. Upon further investigating, I found that he was working for some other law firm.
Later that week my lawyer finally spoke to him and he promised to have the signed contracts over to him by the end of the week and by the end of the week he had finally sent it over. I hadn’t heard from my attorney and I started to wonder if everything was going ok. Our court dates were nearing and so last week reached out to my attorney to find out what was going on. Apparently their asshole lawyer, convinced my lawyer that it was ok to submit copies to the surrogates court. That’s not the case. The court wants original signatures and so that’s what we are waiting on today.
As I have written this last series of posts, I look back and realize how differently I feel today as opposed to just 7 months ago. Going no contact with the people who’ve I depended on for my whole entire life hasn’t been easy. At the same time, I have realized how strong I am. I have made it through the hardest thing in my life, with basically no support except for my cousin Nikki, who has become an amazing friend and source of strength for me. Even though their paperwork hasn’t been fully accepted and admitted to the courts, I find myself feeling this calming sense of relief, just knowing it’s in the works. A HUGE weight has been lifted off my shoulders. For the past seven months I haven’t really been able to deal with my grief how can I with all this bullshit going on in my life?
I know my mom would be terribly upset with the way things have turned out. I promised her on her last night here in earth that I’d fix things. I know one of her biggest worries was me being alone and having no one support me. On the other side, I think if my mom could see things from where she is, she would not only understand my choices but she’d support them. I hope she knows I’m ok. That I am going to survive and that going no contact with almost half of my family, was the best decision I’ve ever made.
When you step outside of a situation you gain a better perspective. I have built my own, new little support system. I see a grief counselor and only surround myself with those who will listen and validate me. Through those channels, I have realized that the way my “family” operates isn’t healthy. In fact it’s very toxic. Normal families are not up in one another’s business like this. In real life I refuse to dignify my aunts and uncle with those titles anymore. My “aunts”, especially my aunt Debbie, display some serious characteristics of someone with a personality disorder. She is a stalker and continued to stalk not only me but the many other people she has harshly and cruelly x’d out of her life. I cannot associate myself with someone like that.
I’d like to end this post off by talking about how I have evolved over the last seven months. I was so angry for so long. I mean I have carried anger towards my aunts and parts of my family now for over a decade. This goes all the way back to when Aunt Bea’s son molested my other cousin. I realize now that my Aunt Debbie and Aunt Bea played the biggest roles in that situation and I blame them for the way everything turned out. My Aunt Debbie had always disliked the victim’s mother and so she used her daughters molestation as a way to fuel her hate campaign against her. That’s what aunt Debbie does. When she doesn’t like someone, she can’t just quietly dislike them by herself. She needs to build up an army to go against them. She brainwashes everyone around her. That’s exactly what she did to the victim’s mother and it’s exactly what she was trying to do to me, however it backfired in her face, this time.
Anyway, i veered off there but I was so angry with them for soooo long and I was anxiously waiting for the day that I could expose them for the hideous creatures they are. I had so many plans in mind like, writing them nasty letters or making a video about all the crazy shit they did, and posting it on Facebook. I felt like I needed to publicly expose them for the frauds they are, but as time went on, I realized that I didn’t need to do any of that. Their own actions and words to other people made them look more like assholes than my words ever could.
I have lost the desire to “get back at them”. Ultimately I realized they aren’t worth my time. You cannot make deaf people listen. Telling someone off and letting them know exactly what you think about them, involves a small amount of care. You have to care what those people think. I don’t give a rats ass anymore. I don’t care enough about them to let them know what I think. They thrive on drama and attention and I’m not giving them either. That is part of why I created this blog. It gives me an outlet to vent and get out my feelings about them without them even knowing. It’s all anonymous and there’s a better chance of being struck by lightening than there is a narcissist trying to understand themselves and other human beings. This type of blog simply wouldn’t captivate their attention.
If you didn’t read parts 1,2 & 3 I would suggest doing so before reading here, here and here.
My brother and Aunts were doing everything in their power to try to get me to drop my objection to my aunts being the executors of my mom’s will. Clearly they were worried about something.
It was only three days after I got my brother’s letter that I received a text from my mom’s neighbor telling me that there was a flatbed truck in my mom’s driveway, and her car was being repossessed. For whatever reason, I didn’t see the text right away, and by time I did the car was long gone. The neighbor however, was kind and thoughtful enough to ask the driver if she can get the personal belongings from the inside of the car and he allowed her to do so.
As anyone can imagine, I was confused. Back in early December my brother sent me a letter where he stated that he would be paying all the bills until an estate account was established. He specifically named the “car note” amongst others things, and said he was paying them. That’s when a lightbulb went off and I went back to his most recent letter where he wrote that the car was going to be repossessed. I raised an eyebrow to that when I had originally read the letter. How is the car getting repossessed if he was paying it and also, how did he even know the car was about to get repossessed? Also why was there a $600 balance with the oil company when he said he was paying for the oil?
This all raised a lot more questions and so I decided to seriously start looking into things. I started off with my mom’s car and called the loan company. I wanted to know where it was, if and how we can get it back, as well as when the last time a payment was made towards it. After giving my mom’s info, the man answered my question by telling me that I needed to speak to Satan, my brother’s wife, because she had all of the info, and he couldn’t tell me anything. I don’t know if I could adequately articulate how infuriating that was to hear. I started to get a little emotional on the phone and I asked the guy how she, who’s an in-law, was able to get the info, but me, her flesh and blood daughter, who owns half of the car, can’t get any info. He told me that she supplied some type of documentation, either a power of attorney or proof that she was the executor. I started getting even more angry because if they received any such documents, they were false. I explained to him that there was no executors or anyone for the estate, and so no one should be able to talk to them.
I was so angry when I hung up the phone that day. I tried to call back and speak to a different person…..four different people actually…….in four separate calls, and eventually I was able to find out that since my brother’s name is on the death certificate, they could speak with him, so she, Satan, supplied her “power of attorney” over my brother. Quite honestly I was hoping they had forged documents. It would’ve put an end to them doing anymore shady shit.
I was really frustrated at this point with the lack of answers I was getting, and then I suddenly realized that I could possibly view her bill online. My mom let me use her email and passwords sometimes for some subscriptions services she has and so I tried those on the loan company’s website. I gained access to her account, but since it was now in collections, none of the info was displayed. The only thing I was able view was her profile information and that’s when I noticed that someone had changed the billing address from my mom’s address to my brother’s and Aunts’ attorney’s office. I couldn’t even believe it. Their lawyer was receiving her mail and illegally giving it to them to open.
For months I also wondered where all of her mail was going. It was still coming to the house for a few weeks after she passed, but one day it just suddenly stopped. Technically no one should be allowed to forward the mail. I wondered if it was just in hold at the post office, but when I went to the post office, I hit another dead end where they couldn’t give me any info. I should’ve known better than to trust my brother’s word that he was taking care of everything, but since they were hiding the mail, I was unable to see anything. That same week I got a collection call from my mom’s oil company. The man that called was actually very nice and easy to talk to. He informed me that my brother gave him my number and told him I am taking care of all the bills!. It was just more manipulation, bullying and pressuring for me to drop my objection. I also got a call from another loan company looking for money. I now knew that I had to look into every account my brother said he was paying and sure enough, NONE were paid since the beginning of November and those payments were made by my mom, herself. As far as I was able to tell, he may have paid one month of homeowners insurance and gave the electric company (who is very lenient) $100 or so to keep the lights on. At the most, he laid out a couple of hundred dollars. More lies from him and Satan.
I didn’t respond to either of the two letters I received. Since they couldn’t get a reaction out of me that way, they tried a different route. They tried manipulating my aunt Dana, my mom’s youngest sister, instead because they knew her and I still had a good relationship. At that time my aunt Dana was dealing with enough of her own personal bullshit. She had a lot of really serious shit going on in her household. Worst of all was my uncle’s health issues. He had a stroke earlier in the year and he was having all sorts of other problems. He was getting a double hip replacement the day after Easter, but that didn’t stop aunt Debbie from calling my aunt Dana and arguing with her about me and all this other petty nonsense, like aunt Dana’s daughter, unfriending Aunt Bea, Aunt Debbie and a few others on Facebook. They were trying to use aunt Dana to manipulate and scare me, and so every time her and I spoke, I was hearing more and more bullshit.
Again, none of this shit was ANYONE else’s business. My Aunt Debbie was going crazy because she thought my mom’s personal belongings were still in the car. She was also freaking out because I had the keys to my mom’s car, at my house. I took the keys back when she first died because I figured if someone broke into the house, they could steal her car too. It’s called, protecting the assets. She was telling my aunt Dana that the car was getting auctioned off during the first week of April and that it was going to cost us tons of money for the lost keys and stuff. She also told my aunt that my mom’s house was going to go into foreclosure because of some (small) home equity loan she had out. I mean there was just so much bullshit going on, it wasn’t even funny.
The biggest problem was that both my brother and my aunts completely underestimate me. They think I am just some dumb ass, stay at home mom who has no idea what goes on in the grown up world. They couldn’t be more wrong about me. I knew most of what they were saying was bullshit. First off I had all the personal stuff from my mom’s car and it was all useless crap. Second, there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop the car from being auctioned off. She thought it was going to cost us money. I knew my mom had very little left on her loan and if anything we’d break even. As for her house foreclosing, that wasn’t going to happen! My mom owned her home free and clear. She had paid off her mortgage after my dad passed in 2006. She took out a small home equity loan a few years ago to remodel her bathroom. It was less than $10,000 and she had paid at least half off. A small home equity loan wouldn’t cause her house to “foreclose”. A lien would be placed on the property until the loan was paid off. She also brought up the taxes. My mom had paid half her yearly taxes and we had three years before we got penalized. It was all bullshit and scare tactics in an attempt to manipulate me, once again into dropping my objection.
A month or so had passed since my objection was filed and they were really starting to wear on my nerves. I have to say, I am pretty damn proud of myself for not reacting to their shit or adding anymore fuel to the fire. It was extremely hard for me to bite my tongue and not tell them what disgraceful assholes they really were. The old me definitely would’ve went ballistic and ripped them to shreds by now, but I have taken on a new approach to dealing with these toxic assholes. I am no longer going to be their supply. The best part in all of this was that I really didn’t have to say anything to anyone about them. They were doing a pretty good job at showing people how ugly they were, all on their own.
One day my aunt Dana called me to tell me that my grandmothers bed was broken. Back when my died and we were at her house between the viewings for her wake, without thinking it would be a problem, I told her she could have my mother’s bed. I sincerely didn’t think my brother would want to sleep in her bed, and I wasn’t giving up my king sized mattress for a queen, and so I didn’t see the problem. After all, I can say with almost 100% certainty that my mom would want my grandmother to have it. A few days later my brother told me that I can’t just be “giving things away.”. He also told my husband that “everything has a price tag” including the bed. He is a sick fuck.
Then after my brother lied and tried to bypass my mom’s will by improperly filing for letters of administration, he wrote me a letter and acted as if it was his idea to give my grandmother the bed. Again, sick fuck.
My aunt Dana asked me if I could write a letter giving permission for my grandmother to take the bed, and she told me she was going to ask my brother to do the same. I hung up with her and wrote her a letter, but I tried to make it sound as “lawyer like” as I could. I would agree to the bed being given away so long as my brother agreed too, and I would need his consent before fully agreeing. I didn’t want him to try to find any loops holes where he could later claim I stole the bed and owe him money or something…..although how much do used beds go for these days? Well surprise, surprise, my brother didn’t respond to my aunt. It took him a few days and when he finally did talk to her he told her that since I was holding everything up in court, he wasn’t going to give his permission to let my grandmother take the bed. Another manipulative move to try and use my grandmother to guilt me into dropping my objection. What kind of asshole punishes their grandmother like that? Well, I guess the same asshole who threatens their mother that she won’t see her grandchild unless she kisses his crazy wife’s ass.
At this point in time I have to admit. They all started to get to me. They were non-stop harassing my aunt Dana, and I think that’s what was pissing me off more than anything. Aunt Dana was trying to care for her ailing husband amongst other very serious issues, and they had absolutely no respect for her. They just kept at it. Calling her up, talking shit about me, fighting with her and arguing with her. I know EXACTLY what it’s like because they did the same thing to me to me when I was trying to care for my dying mother. I wanted and needed to put a stop to it.
Please see part 5 for the rest of the story.
If you didn’t read Part one and Part two of this series, I would suggest you do before reading this one. If you didn’t, I’ll catch you up. My brother had finally found out that I was objecting to my aunts being appointed as executors of my mom’s estate and he sent me (and other family members) a manipulative letter to try and scare, guilt and bully me into dropping my objection. I will discuss that further in my next post.
A day or so after I got my brother’s letter, I also received a letter from my Aunt Bea. Of all people I don’t know why she or any of them thought she was going to be the “voice of reason” to me, because it’s no secret that she isn’t my favorite family member. It’s so ridiculous that it’s almost not worth sharing here, but since I shared my brother’s letter, I should share hers too because it is another load of useless horse shit and it shows how manipulative these people are. I’ve explained this before, but my aunt Bea is sort of an invalid. She’s not the brightest bulb in the box. She sort of lives in a bubble of her own creation. She lives in a world where everything is perfect, and people are dancing on rainbows and riding unicorns. She does not live in reality like the rest of us. She would never be able to handle independently managing her own life, let alone trying to settle an estate. She’s one of those women who relies way too heavily on her husband. He does just about everything to for. I will never forget a few years ago having a conversation with her about this store that’s in the next county over from us and she told me she’d have to wait for my uncle to bring her there because she has never driven on the main highway where we live. We live on a small island and that highway is the pretty much the main artery to get where you’re going. I couldn’t believe she has never driven on it by herself in the 35+ years she’s lived here. With that said, I wasn’t expecting her to be doing much as the executor of my mom’s will and so she wrote me this letter, which was a really (really, really, really) dumbed down version of my brother’s letter.
I’m writing you to assure you that everything is going to be alright.
I understand that you have suddenly objected to Aunt Debbie and I being the executors of your Mom’s will. When you submitted the will you showed confidence that our intentions were to carry out her will and wishes. You were right. We loved your Mom. There isn’t anything we wouldn’t have done for her when she was here. She loved you both and itwas her will to have US handle her estate. This is our last chance to do something that really matters for her.
Your Mom worked so hard for what she had in life. She didn’t want to give up work….even at the very end! She amazed the hell out of me! She never took the easy way out. She would want to see you bothenjoy that hard earned money. I don’t think she would be too keen on unnecessarily hiring someone to carry out her wishes. Just know too that the people you are looking to hire don’t have any love invested and the end result wouldn’t change.
Trust in the loyalty we have to our family. Both Aunt Debbie and I would never treat you unfairly…nor do we have the power to. We will always be connectedwhether we want to be or not. Just remember we all have one thing in common. We Love your Mom very much and we are ALL broken hearted that she has left us.
There is so much to say about this short letter. First off, I love how she thinks I’m actually going to feel “assured” solely by her words. I hadn’t talked to her or any of them in over 5 months, at this point in time. I had reached out quite a few times, but they ignored me each time. Suddenly when I got you buy the balls, you want to talk? Also, I don’t know how me entering my mom’s will “showed confidence” in her and my Aunt Debbie. I entered the will, ummmmm, because that’s what you do when someone dies and they have a will! I also entered the will because it was a legal document that stated my brother and I were to split everything 50/50. Who the executors were, was completely irrelevant at that point in time.
“Trust in the loyalty we have to our family.”
Of the whole letter this part probably irks me the most “You were right. We loved your Mom. There isn’t anything we wouldn’t have done for her when she was here. She loved you both and it was her will to have US handle her estate. This is our last chance to do something that really matters for her.”. They “loved her so much” and there “wasn’t anything they wouldn’t have done for her while she was here”???? Is she kidding? They didn’t doshit for her! She’d do anything, except try to help me talk to her about depression, except spending more time with her, except trying to get through to her, except SHOWING HER SOME GOD DAMN LOVE AND SUPPORT, but yeah….nothing you wouldn’t do. The most infuriating of all is the last sentence there. “This is our last chance to do something that really matters for her.“. They had plenty of chances to do something that mattered for her while she was here but they did NOTHING. She is gone now and so nothing they do will matter to her anymore. Fuck her. Why does she deserve a chance? Why is that MY problem.
I’ll skip the whole paragraph about her hard earned money, but I’ll say this…her hard earned money is none of her’s or anyone else’s fucking business. Period.
I guess my Aunt Bea thinks that just because she’s saying something, it makes it true. How can I trust in the “loyalty” in our family when loyalty doesn’t exist in it? She wouldn’t know what loyalty was if it kicked her in the vagina. She states they’d never treat me unfairly…..I guess ignoring my attempts to reach out amicably is “fair”? I guess using the same lawyer as my brother without consulting with me is “fair”? I guess having my brother over for holidays and not me is “fair”? I guess blocking me on Facebook and all other social media platforms is also “fair”? I mean is she fucking kidding me with this bullshit about being fair? If they didn’t have the power to royally fuck me over, my lawyer wouldn’t have wasted his time writing an objection for me and entering it into court. The line about is being connected for ever is creepy and a very scary thought. So fucking manipulative. Notice that no where in there do they say they love me. She couldn’t even write “love, Aunt Bea” at the end.
A year or so ago, my brother’s letter and her letter may have broken me, but I was determined to keep fighting for myself, and my mother’s memory. They weren’t going to push me around this time.
After receiving these letters, shit really started to pop off and I will continue discussing it in my next post…
Please see part one of this post before reading here.
If you read my post about my confrontation with my brother and Satan, his wife, at my mom’s house, then you know what happened after my brother found out that I had filed the will. If you didn’t read it, you can read it here. (Trust me, it’s a worthy read). To summarize, I caught my brother and Satan removing items from my mom’s house after she died. At that point no one was appointed as executor and no one had authority to remove items and/or tell anyone they could remove items from her home. In fact, prior to this I was told by my brother that I wasn’t allowed to take anything from the house. That night, my brother accused me of forging the letter that was sent to me along with my mom and dad’s wills, by the lawyer who wrote them. All the letter said was that I had got in contact with him and requested the original copies of the wills. What good forging that would do……well your guess is as good as mine! Basically said, my brother was pissed that his attempt to gain control over my mom’s estate and make some extra money while he’s at it, was foiled.
When I filed the will in mid December I tried reaching out to one of the named executors, my Aunt Debbie. At that point, I didn’t even bother with my Aunt Bea, the other named executor. I know my aunt Bea, and this stuff is all way over her head. I knew her participation as executor was going to be extremely limited and my Aunt Debbie was going to do most, if not all of the work. I sent aunt Debbie an email and I text her. In all I tried to reach out peacefully and amicably, five separate times to try to talk things out and move past things, so we can carry out my mom’s wishes in the way she wanted us to…….in return I got nothing but crickets. She never responded. At this point in time I was starting to get a little nervous. My Aunt Debbie and Aunt B were essentially in control of my life at this point. They were in control of my memories. They were in control of the only thing that was left of my family and I started to get really nervous.
After the incident at my mother’s house with my brother and his wife, and then me subsequently finding out that she ran right to my aunts and they comforted her, it was over. There were just too many red flags, and it was becoming clear to me that I wasn’t going to be treated fairly. My aunts wouldn’t speak to me no matter how amicably I tried to approach them. They were even using my brother’s lawyer to represent them. It was becoming very clear to me that I was the odd man out. It was clear at this point that my aunts were on my brother’s side and not mine. They can pretend all they want, but BOTH of my aunts know who was really there for my mom. They knew how much I did for her, and they knew my brother and his wife weren’t there. They knew how my mom felt about her. They knew what my mom’s wishes were.
Their anger for me and hatred of the truth and reality, started to over power their love and respect for my mom, and that’s when I decided that I had to take action and put a stop to this crazy shit. I voiced my concerns to my lawyer and that was when he told me that I had a right to contest the will and object to my aunts being the executors. Will contests are very costly and I knew this prior to going into this. I was not looking to piss away my inheritance, but at the same time, I wasn’t going to take that chance that my memories would be stolen from me and so when my aunts finally decided to file their paperwork in march, my lawyer filed an objection for me.
Most likely when push came to shove, I didn’t have much on my aunts except for their negligence to protect the assets, and the fact that they were telling my brother and Satan they can go on a shopping spree in my mother’s house. The problem here was that my aunts were CLEARLY showing favoritism to my brother and refusing to communicate with me. They were having him over for dinners and holidays. They were still friends with him and his wife on Facebook (me and my husband were both blocked), and what was probably the most unfair to me was they they were all using the same legal counsel. In fact, my brother paid the retainer for the lawyer so he can file their petitions to the court. I’m not sure how any of that would’ve fared in court. Technically we had no solid proof or evidence on any wrong doing on the part of my aunts, but since they were so closely tied with my brother, who was perjuring himself and doing all sorts of other crazy shit (which I will get to shortly) it wasn’t looking good for them. The goal of me filing the objection was to sort of ruffle their feathers and rattle their cages (god, if only they were in cages….my life would be a lot easier). All joking aside, we just wanted to throw up some type of road block to make their lives more difficult. I had no intention of bringing this to litigation.
I filed my objection in early March, sometime during the first week. Things were pretty quiet after that, for a few weeks. Boy was I anxious as I awaited to hear something back. It was like the quiet before the storm. Finally on March 30th, my cousin Nikki called me… I answer the phone and she’s like, “holy shit! Did you read that email?”. “What email?” I asked, and she was like, “Holy shit, your brother sent an email to everyone in the family.”. Sure enough I open up my inbox and here is what I saw.
I’ve heard that you are in the process of objecting to the Will that
you and your attorney filed in Surrogates Court, which divides mom’s
estate 50/50. Your objection will not change the settlement of the
estate, it will waste away the money she worked so hard for.
I was under the impression that since YOU filed the Will, which names Aunt Debbie and Aunt Bea as executrices, you would sign the Waiver and Consent as I did, and Letters Testamentary would be issued
shortly. Thus an estate account would start paying all of her expenses instead of me. Since you are dragging this out with the next court date is 11/13/2017 (see attached Pre-Trial Order), I will NOT be paying any more expenses.
I won’t be paying the oil bill. The account has a $600+balance and no more oil will be delivered and the heat will be turnedoff. The oil will not last till 11/13/2017.
I won’t be paying the electric bill. The electric will be disconnected.
I won’t be paying the water bill.
I won’t be paying the homeowner’s insurance for the house. Once squatters or vandals are in house no damage they cause will be covered.
The car payment is several months past due. The car will be repossessed.
Due to the house being vacant, without utilities, and apparently abandoned, it will be susceptible to vandalism, squatters and/ortheft.
I understand that you’re concerned that you’re not going to be treated fairly in the settling of the Estate. I also understand thatyou’re concerned that mom’s wishes aren’t going to be carried out.
A Public Administrator is answerable to Surrogate’s Court and has the same fiduciary responsibilities as executrices do. If you feel that you are being treated unfairly by either, your remedy is the same; you file a complaint with Surrogates Court and they compel the Administrator or executrix to comply with the Will.
A Public Administrator’s isnot a free public service. It will cost over $18,000, while Aunt Debbie and Aunt Bea would be free. (Not true they could’ve collected up to 3% of the entire value of the estate)
The Public Administrator ALSO hires an attorney with additional legal fees in the neighborhood of $5,000.
The Estate’s attorney’s fee will be nearly $15,000 to defendagainst these objections and I imagine your attorney’s fee will be similar
The sum of these fees will be at least $50,000 if not more and in the end the estate will be divided 50/50 as mom wished.
If you continue with this and when you lose the case in November, the Estate will NOT pay your attorney’s fees.
The Estate’s attorney WILL be paid by the Estate to defend against your case. Half of the fee to defend against your objections will be paid by yourinheritance. All of the fee to prosecute your objections will also be paid by you.
If you truly are concerned that mom’s wishes be carried out and that the estate’s assets not be squandered, as your sworn affidavit states, then it would be in your best interest to drop these objections and let your aunts do what mom trusted them to do!”
I have NEVER read such a load of vile bullshit in my life. I love how he thinks I’m stupid and my lawyer did not explain the consequences to me. Before I even get into it, I should explain that this email was forwarded to several other family members, which is sick. What’s even more sick, is that he BCC’d them. For anyone who’s not familiar with email language, there’s “CC” and “BCC”. When you compose an email you can send it to more than one person using the “CC” (carbon copy) box. When the email is received on the other end, they will be able to see who else the email was sent to because the names will be displayed on the header of the email. When you use “BCC” (blind carbon copy) you can send the email to multiple people but the original recipient won’t be able to see who else received the email. I had no idea you could even do this until now. Just another shady move in Satan’s playbook.
Obviously this was not not only in an attempt to manipulate me, but them as well. I do not know if my brother alone was capable of writing such a manipulative letter. He may have worded it, but I don’t know if he’s responsible for all of the content, because of how highly manipulative it is. Personally, I believe his lawyer is an idiot if he advised him to write this. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter who wrote it. What matters was what it’s intent was. He was trying to accomplish two things here. One was obviously trying to scare, guilt and bully me into dropping my objection. The other was trying to paint me as a difficult person who’s making things hard and wasting time and money. He also wanted to make it seem as if I were trying to fight him for his half of the money, however when he sent the letter, he also attached two court documents. One of those documents clearly states what my objection is about, and NO WHERE in there does it say or even imply that I’m contesting anything that’s stated in the will. I wasn’t contesting the will. I was contesting the appointment of my aunts as the executors, which I had every right to do. I also love how he’s so confident I was going to lose my case by saying, “When you lose your case in November….”
As far as all the bullet points he shared, in the last set, his mathematics and arithmetics were completely off, according to my lawyer. I don’t know who gave him those figures, but they were way off. What’s more important than those however, are the other set in the beginning of the letter where my brother lists off everything he won’t be paying anymore and what the consequences to that will be. I will get more into that in my next post.
Well, well, well, it’s been quite a while since I updated this blog. I took a break from blogging because this whole story, this life; these people…..they were sucking the life out of me. Re-telling this entire story was a lot on me emotionally. Reliving the horror that was the last year and a half of my life, it was emotionally draining. I am not just mourning the loss of my mother. It is so much more than that. I am mourning the loss of life as I once knew it. I lost so much more than just my mom. I lost my family. I lost the support system that I counted on for 34 years. I lost them somewhat by choice but nevertheless it’s still a loss and a huge adjustment. Going no contact with the people you have depended on for your whole entire life is not for the faint of heart.
I began to feel paralyzed in life. Like I had no control over my future, my own feelings, my grief and most importantly, the memories of my family. I felt like I was being held hostage. My anger, my disappointment, with my family was eating me alive, day and night. I was ruminating and obsessing about how I was wronged and how angry I was at my aunts, my brother, his wife and my uncle Bob. How badly I wanted to retaliate. I was obsessed with revenge. I couldn’t wait for the day that I could finally put two middle fingers in the air and say FUCK YOU, to all of them and be on my merry way………
Well that day has finally come…..sort of…….
If you’re new here or found this blog via an interwebs search I will give you a brief summary of what has taken place as far as my mom’s estate, since she has passed. Let me preface this by saying, I knew absolutely NOTHING about the estate settling process prior to my mom’s death. All I knew was that people had wills and you needed lawyers. I didn’t have time to research it, nor did I want to research it, because prior to my mom’s death, my concern was her, being with her, caring for her, protecting her, and most importantly, spending as much time as I could with her, because I knew our time here was limited.
With that said, I didn’t think the estate settlement process was all that complicated, especially given the case that my mom had a will that stated everything was to be divided up between my brother and myself, 50/50. By all intents and purposes it should be pretty cut and dry. Well, when there’s a narcissist in the mix, it throws a narcissistic monkey wrench in all of your plans. It was two days after we said our final goodbyes, to my mom, Black Friday to be exact, that my husband got a text from my brother that read, “I saw a lawyer today, either [me] can hand over the will that names my Aunt Bea and aunt Debbie as executrix or I will be going to court on Monday to file for administration.”. I had no idea wtf any of that meant, but thanks to Professor Google, I got a crash course in the basics of estate settlement and surrogates court procedures. That Saturday, my brother followed up with a phone call to my husband, trying to manipulate him into manipulating me, to go along with whatever he was going to do. Basically he tried to convince my husband that I’m some type of lazy, irresponsible, foot dragging, teenage like, type person who was going to slow down the process and prevent him and Satan from collecting the maximum possible inheritance that they can get. I’ll admit, my husband was almost fooled because my brother, he is an intelligent person, (in some regards) and he knows how to put together a very convincing argument. I was woken up by this, that morning and I was livid because I knew EXACTLY what my brother was doing. You see when you are an executor or administrator, you are privy to collecting a “fee” for your services. It can be anywhere up to 3% of the estate and in an estate my mom’s size, you are talking an extra $15,000 – 20,000. All I could hear was my mom in the back of my head saying, “I don’t want that bitch having any of my money.”. After all I had been through, after how horribly they treated my mom for the last three years, I wasn’t about to let that happen. They did absolutely NOTHING to help her while she was sick and suffering. They just wanted to be in control because for narcissists like Satan, being in control of everything around them, is the only thing they know how to do.
My mom and dad paid a lawyer to draft wills for them for a reason. That will was in there to protect not only my mom’s assets, but to protect me and my brother. Why would we act as if there was no will? One of the selling points my brother made to my husband was that the administration process was going to be much quicker than probating the will. That was a complete and utter lie. In a true “intestate” (death without a will) situation, because there is no will in place, and therefore no named heirs, the court needs to locate the heirs. They must do so by seeking out ALL next of kin after someone has filed for letters of administration. They do so by notifying them that “person A” has filed for letters of administration (meaning they will take on the same role as an executor). The court must then wait for each and every next of kin to respond, this can include siblings, children and surviving parents, etc. Each has the right to object to the person becoming the administrator. Basically put, it takes just as long if not longer than probate.
I wasn’t about to agree to anything my brother said without first speaking to a lawyer, and so I reached out to a friend who happened to work for an estate attorney, and asked if I could make an appointment. Prior to this, I thought my brother had the original copy of my mom’s will and he thought I had it. That same Friday, I tried calling the lawyer who wrote my mom’s will but no one answered. I figured they were in vacation for the holiday and would be back sometime next week. That Monday, I met with the attorney and he informed me that usually people do not keep the original copies of their own wills. What I had that I had taken from my mom’s safe (with her ok and instructions to do so) was only a copy. My lawyer informed me that it was possible to probate a copy, but it would be a little more difficult. He told me to keep trying to track down the original copy and let him know in a week or two wether or not I was able to find it. I tried calling the lawyer once again that Monday, but the number to his office just kept ringing and ringing. I wasn’t even sure that the lawyer was still in practice and so I hit the internet to search for some more info about him. I found a website under someone who had the exact same name as him but it wasn’t for a lawyer, it was for some capital finance company and so took a chance and I sent an email to the link on the site. As I kept digging, I found a PDF flyer that this person who had the same name as him, was speaking at an alumni event at a local college. They had his cellphone number listed on the flyer and so I called that. I got a generic answering machine and left a message, hoping that it was him.
A few days later, a woman called me back and told me that she was the secretary to the person who had the same name as the lawyer. I explained my situation to her and she told me that she had to check a security deposit box and would call me back in a few days. It took almost two weeks, and me calling her a few times until finally, I got a call back that she had found the will and she’d over night it to me. I got it two days later and brought it down to my lawyer as soon as I could.
At that point we weren’t 100% sure if my brother had actually filed for administration or not, but it didn’t really matter. A will automatically trumps any administration attempts. Ironically the same day I dropped the will of with my lawyer, I pulled into my driveway and a minute or so later, a process server pulled up in front of my house and served me with a citation that my brother had indeed filed for letters of administration….just as he said he would. My lawyer told me that he has never, in his 40+ years of law, seen ANYONE file for letters of administration that quickly after someone died…..EVER. He told me that the paperwork alone took at least 2 weeks to prepare…
Just to put this into perspective here,
My mom died on Sunday Nov. 20th.
I spent the entire day preparing for her wake on, Monday the 21st.
Tuesday the 22nd Wed the 23rd was her wake services.
Thursday the 25th was thanksgiving
Friday the 26th was the only open business day of that week and I assume most attorneys were off.
Sat the 27th and Sunday the 28th don’t count
Monday the 29th thru Wednesday, December 1st were the only legitimate business days because……
By Thursday December 3rd, my brother filed his petition for Letters of Administration.
That left only 4 business days to do a “diligent Search” for the will. A diligent search would include calling lawyers and looking at public records down at the surrogate court building, amongst other things.
My brother had no idea I had found or filed the will, but when I informed my lawyer that we had a text from my brother not only acknowledging the will, but giving specifics about who was named as executors, he had to pick his jaw up off the floor. He explained to us that when you filed for LOA (letters of Administration), you sign an affidavit that states that you did a diligent search for a will and have determined to the best of your knowledge that no will existed. Not only did my brother know a will existed, he put it in writing and sent it to us. It was like a gift from god. It really was. He perjured himself in a court of law and could’ve faced criminal charges because of it.
Prior to my brother finding out that I had entered the will, and during the time he thought his false attempt at gaining control was a sure bet, “he” sent me this letter (and by he I mean Satan), that stated that he was taking care of everything until an estate account was established. He even went on to list specifics such as paying her “car note” (🤢), her oil bill, her homeowners and car insurances, the electric, etc. He tried to sound all professional with his words like “car note” and by saying things like, she will be assigned an FEIN number “in Leiu of a social security number”. It was written in a way to make it sound like what he was doing was very complicated and over my head. He gave me these stupid, useless facts and worded them so they sounded important and like he was keeping me “up to par” and in the loop. (The surrogate court wants to see that you are being amicable and communicative while they are determining whether or not they will appoint you as administrator). It was all a bullshit formality. He made sure to mention that our emails exchanges from then on our needed to be kept professional because they were going to be on record with the courts.
My brother and Satan’s biggest problem here is that they both have severely underestimated me and my intelligence. My brother is an intelligent dude. I will give him that. He is book smart. He’s a fact memorizer and test taker but he can NEVER rival me on book smarts…..
This is the end of part one. Please see part 2
The last few posts were very hard for me to write. Reading them back to myself, I can see how much I struggled. I am still grieving. As I wrote this it has barely been four months since my mom has passed. I am still in shock. I still won’t allow myself to fully go to that place where I get too deep because I am afraid of being so sad, and crying so much that I won’t be able to turn it off. From this point on in the story we are pretty much up to current times and everything I’ve been dealing with since her passing, and so once I fully catch up to present days I’m going to start talking about the grieving process and how I’m dealing with that. First though, I must finish the story and tell you all what happened in the days and weeks following her death and how crazy that all was for me. If you read any of this story, thank you.
It was the morning of November the 20th, 2016 when my mom passed away, at 8:04 in the morning. I was the only one with her besides the nurses, who were complete strangers to me. They both looked at me and expressed their sorrow. I rubbed my mom’s arm and it was still warm. I stared to cry and said, “goodbye mama.”. The other nurse turned to me and said that they would give me a few minutes alone. For a second I panicked as if I were a little kid, that they are leaving me alone with her now lifeless body, but then I realized, this isn’t the scary part. The scary part was what I witnessed for the past month. It was just her body and her spirit had left it. It was still my mom. I thought to myself, she was finally at peace, with no more pain and I was ok.
I got up out of the chair and paced around, just looking at her. Her eyes were opened but looking down and I could see there was no life left in them. That is another image that is unfortunately burned into my brain. At the same time it was so scary, it was also peaceful. I found peace in knowing she didn’t have to suffer anymore and I didn’t have to watch her suffer anymore. I have never seen a person suffer in agony like that before and in so many ways. While what my dad went through was horrible, terrible, what I watched my mom go through over the course of that past year and especially in the month before she died, I cannot even find adequate words to describe it. Watching a person suffer like that will really make you question of there is a god because no human being should have to endure that much suffering. I have to believe that there’s a heaven and a place where we go on to bigger and better things because otherwise, it all seems to senseless.
I realized my family would be on their way shortly and so I decided to step out of the room to start making phone calls. I didn’t want everyone just showing up without knowing, and so the first person I called was my brother. He told me he and his wife were heading up to the hospital and would be there shortly. He also said he’d notify my aunt Debbie and Aunt Bea and I figured between them, they’d notify everyone else. I went to walk back to the room and the door was closed so I knocked. They told me to wait a moment and that they were just cleaning her up. In the meantime the on-call doctor came to talk to me. He apologized for the loss and had me sign some papers. He also asked me if I wanted an autopsy in which I declined. I’m actually sorry that I did. At times I question why things took such a drastic turn. Why my brother and his wife stayed away from the hospital for those few days before she died.
By the time I was done discussing things with him, the nurses were done. I walked into the room to see they had closed my moms eyes, neatened up the sheets and folded her arms over her chest, simarlarly to how they do it in the funeral home. They also gathered all of her belongings and put them in bags and piled the bags on the table and chairs. She had accumulated a lot of stuff in her months long stay. As I was in there I could almost here her telling me to grab her phone and her iPad before my brother and his wife got it. I knew my mom was like me and she never deleted her text messages. My brother would’ve been devastated had her read the text messages between me and her. I also knew she talked to a lot of people about what was going on and how much she hated his wife. I couldn’t do that to my mom. Even though she physically isn’t here, I felt like it was wrong.
I walked downstairs to put them in my car and as I was on my way down my cousin Tina called me. Of all of my cousins her and I used to be the closest. Tina was Aunt Debbie’s daughter and she was an only child. I always felt bad that she didn’t have a sibling and so I sort of stepped into that role for her. We used to talk daily since the time she was a young teen. After my mom she was probably the next person in my family that I communicated with most, but six months before my mom passed she kind of just cut off communication with me, without any explanations. There was nothing that I could think of off the top of my head that I did that would cause her to just drop me like that. In the same token I also didn’t bother to find out what was wrong. I was too busy caring for my mom. I eventually found out it was because of the letter I wrote to her mom. I was shocked. She is well aware of who her mother is and how she operates. I’ve never seen a mother and daughter at each other’s throats more than her and her mom. If my son ever spoke of me the way she spoke about her mom, I’d be really upset. Besides, I don’t think she was presented with my letter in its full context and so I almost can’t blame her for being angry. If you just read that last letter I wrote, it looks as if I’m just being a mean asshole. That’s how my aunt operates.
We stayed on the phone for a while. I hadn’t talked to her the whole time my mom was there except for a few texts in the very beginning, after I had accidentally called her one day. I told her all the crazy shit that was going on with my brother and his wife and how they were non-stop harassing her about seeing an eldercare lawyer and health proxies and her “wishes”. I hoped she’d share it with her mom so maybe she’d have an understanding of what was going on and why I’ve been so upset and angry.
Eventually I saw my brother and Satan coming up to the hospital with their one and a half year old daughter. I figured I’d give them a few minutes alone with my mom, the. I told Tina I’d call her back. I walked into my mom’s room. My brother and Satan are sitting on the chairs and the baby is running around the room trying to lift up the blankets and stuff on my mom’s bed and Satan’s just sitting there talking and laughing as if she’s not sitting next to my mom’s deceased body. My brother just had this blank stare going on. I thought it was so strange and inappropriate that they even brought their baby. They always seem to find baby sitters when they want to go out to the bar but they can’t find one for now? Satan has a 14 year old daughter who could’ve looked after her. I told them I didn’t think there was any purpose for anyone in our family to come up. There was nothing for anyone to do. She was gone. The hospital was at least a half hour drive or more for the majority of my family. My brother agreed. He then turns to me and says, “oh yeah, by the way, we made an appointment at the funeral home for 3:00 today.” It was around 12:30. I had slept a total of just over 6 hours for the last three days. I hadn’t been sleeping well for long before then. I was dealing with insomnia for a long time. I explained that to him along with the fact I just wanted to go home and see my son and my husband and relax. I felt like I hadn’t seen them in a month. I was hardly ever home. I’d spend 8+ hours at the hospital each day. If I could, I’d bring my son up with me in the early afternoon and my husband would come pick him up around 3:30. Most nights, by time I got home they were both bed. I asked my brother why we couldn’t wait until the following day, like we did when my dad passed. My brother then said to me, probably one of the most fucked up things, he has said so far, “well I mean it’s thanksgiving is this Thursday.”. Was he fucking kidding? I’m sorry our mother’s death has inconvenienced your holiday. I said, “I don’t give a fuck about thanksgiving!” It’s so unimportant. My brother was always like that. He did what was convenient for him without taking anyone else into consideration. While he was at his house at a 50th Birthday party and sleeping in his nice comfy bed, I was sleeping on a shitty old piece of hospital equipment for the past two nights. If the roles were reversed I could guarantee he wouldn’t want to go that day either.
When all was said and done he and Satan stood up and said they were leaving and they’d see me at 3:30. They just walked out. They didn’t even look at my mom, touch her, kiss her or say goodbye, while her body was still somewhat warm. They didn’t even look at her. I know she couldn’t hear them but it just showed me how emotionally unaffected then were by this. I never once saw my brother’s wife shed a tear. I saw my brother shed a few over the days prior but never when she was around. My girlfriend Kathy who was the nurse said that on that last night while I was at my house picking up my clothes and stuff, she walked in the room and was shocked to see my brother sitting there balling his eyes out, like to the point where he doing that weird breathing thing you do when you cry really hard. Of course Satan wasn’t there that night. It’s so sad that he cannot be vulnerable in front of her or show any weakness. I was happy to hear that had some human emotion left in him. Satan on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit upset about my mom’s departure. I know my husband cried. In our 9 years together it was the first time I ever saw him cry.
They walked out of the room with the baby and their empty stroller and left me there to carry all of my mom’s belongings, all by myself. One of the male nurses there who I became friendly with, came in with a box of coffee for us that he paid for out of his own pocket. I felt bad telling him that no one else was coming. I have to say that the nursing staff at that hospital was phenomenal. I had become friendly with all of the nurses. I almost felt like they were my family for that month. They all treated my mom with kindness and compassion and most importantly, dignity. I felt like I was going to miss seeing them and talking to them everyday. Anyway, the male nurse who got me the coffee also went and got me an extra wide wheel chair to help he carry all the bags and belongings down to my car. It still took me two trips to get everything in my car. After the first trip I called Tina back and talked to her for about 15 minutes or so. When I came back in to get the bag I opened the door to my mom’s room and was startled to see a group of young medical students surrounding her bed. They all turned around kind of shocked to see me standing there and when they did I was able to see they had taped cotton over my mom’s eyes. The doctor, who I assume was their professor, started to apologize profusely about me having to see that. She then explained to me why they were doing that. My mom had obviously signed up to be an organ donor. Because they couldn’t use any of her organs or tissue because of the cancer, they were going to see if her eyes could be donated. The reason they needed to tape cotton to them was because so they could keep them moist. It didn’t bother me at all. In fact I was happy to see that they were going to try. I know that would’ve made her happy.
I finally got back to my car and started to drive away from the place that had almost felt like home to me for those last few weeks. My 30 day parking pass expired that day and I had to pay for parking. It was bittersweet rolling out of there. I was happy to never have to go back but sad at the same time because I was leaving there alone. I had driven my mom home from there several times that year and now that was it. Never again would I drive her anywhere. It was a hard pill to swallow.
I got home and walked in my front door. My son came running up to me yelling, “mommy!”. My husband too. We all just say there and embraced one another and cried. We all sat down on the couch and I went over everything that had happened that day up until then. I told him I had to go to the funeral home and he agreed it was bullshit that they couldn’t wait. Neither of us could understand why they were so eager to get my mom’s wake over and done with and on with their lives.
As I was home I received a phone call from the place that handled donations of the eyes. The woman who answered was very pleasant to deal with. She needed some basic and background information about my mom. I ended up being on the phone with her that by time I got off, it was time for me and my husband to leave to go to the funeral home.
We pulled up and of course my brother and Satan were already there sitting in the lobby. I needed my husband there too. Satan is very quiet when he’s around. I think she’s a little intimidated by him. It was so uncomfortable with her being there. It was like having a (demonic) stranger in the room sucking up all of the good oxygen. The funeral director was a woman, different than the woman who came up to the hospital. The first part of this meeting was completely redundant. It was exactly what we had accomplished in the hospital. She asked us basic info about my mom and once again my brother was looking at me for the answers. My husband and Satan were quietly sitting in two chairs off to the side. Then me moved on to how many days we wanted the service. At the same time I said, “one” and my brother said “two”. I wasn’t really sure why he wanted to do two, but I just went a long with it. I was much too tired and upset to argue. Then she showed us the book of Mass cards and we picked ones that had assorted pictures of flowers. My mom loved flowers. We decided to have a priest even though my mom wasn’t really all that religious. She still believed in god and I think she would’ve wanted him there for her family’s sake because a lot of my aunts and uncles are religious.
After we wrapped up all of the details, it was time to talk money and how this was all going to be paid for, that’s when Satan jumped in. She had already apparently done her homework and knew that my mom had three life insurance policies and one of them lapsed. I was in complete shock. My husband and I looked at one another and without saying a word I know he was thinking exactly what I was thinking, “how the fuck does she even know about that shit?”. The funeral director said she’d look further into everything and see what was what.
As the funeral director was tallying the costs, my brother turns to me and says, “after here me and [satan] are heading over to [a local Irish pub]. We figured we would go there between the funeral services.”. I had went along with all their crazy bullshit up until this point but there was no way in hell I was agreeing with this. For the last two days Satan was going around telling my family members that we were going to go back to my mom’s house between the viewings. Whatever family member is was that told me that, thought it was incredibly ballsy for her to offer up my mom’s house. They also though it was a little strange. I also found it funny at she was able to lend her own home to a friend’s sister to have a 50th birthday party in, but she didn’t even offer it up for her husband’s family. Someone must of told them that was weird and so now they picked this Irish pub. I had to laugh when my brother said it, I replied to him by saying, ” [our mother’s Italian maiden name], we are Italian. There’s no way in hell we are going to [local Irish pub]. We will honor her by eating Italian food.”. I could see the smoke rising from Satan’s ears. I know she’s the one who picked that place. She is Irish through and through. St. Patrick’s day is her favorite holiday. I told him to go check out a local Italian restaurant to eat at. I wasn’t going to no pub so I could watch Satan get drunk. No thanks.
After that it was time to go down to the show room of death, as I like to call it . . I was stunned the fist time I had been down there when we were making my dad’s funeral arrangements. It’s like a little store. The first room you walk into is all filled with urns and all these miscellaneous knick knacks and memorial items. You can really customize your wake. Then as you go through there, you enter a large showroom that’s filled with caskets that are all sitting there with their doors propped open. If there’s anything I learned from watching HBO’s six feet under, it’s that death is a business too, and this room confirmed it.
We picked our casket and went back in the first room to look at urns since we were going to be cremating my mom. As I started to look around I noticed that not only did they have big urns, they had smaller ones too. There was one urn specifically that reminded me of something my Aunt Debbie would like. That’s when I got the idea. I again remembered my mom in her final days, that she just wanted her family and so I turned to my brother and said, we should get these for our aunt’s and uncle’s this way my mom could be with all of them. My brother agreed it was a good idea and the funeral director told us that during the wake she could pull down my mom’s siblings and our grandmother and they can pick the one’s they like. Since my mom told my aunt Debbie that she wanted her ashes mixed with my dad’s I decided to keep my dad’s urn and just add my mom’s ashes. My brother and Satan of course picked out the most expensive urn on the shelf for their house. God my mom would hate to be sitting on their mantle.
Another thing that hit me as we were down in that room was that I didn’t remember discussing what two days exactly we would be having my mom’s wake and so I asked out loud. My brother answered, Tuesday and Wednesday. I looked at him like he had five heads. That left us with one day to find a place to go between viewings, get flowers and photos together, etc. etc. Again I had to open my mouth. I was concerned for some of my mom’s family who lived out of state, who may want to come to pay their respects. They’d need more than a day or two to make travel plans, especially given the fact that thanksgiving was that Thursday. I mentioned that to my brother and suggested waiting until the day after thanksgiving, to have the wake. Even though it would be hard, we could e at least have people the option to travel here. His answer was that he already took Tuesday and Wednesday off from work. God forbid my mother’s death ruin his thanksgiving and his three day weekend. He’d rather waste his 2 days off from work so he could enjoy the rest of his week…..selfish fuck!
We walked out of the funeral home and Satan, still reeling about my “we are Italian” comment, ran straight to their car and didn’t say goodbye to either me or my husband. My brother stayed behind and talked with is for a few minutes. He started spewing plans of what we should do in the following days. The next day, he and Satan were going to order the flowers and go to the Italian restaurant. Then he started to go into this bullshit about just opening up my mom’s house and having an estate sale so we didn’t have to be bothered going through everything. I sat there and just looked at him dumbfounded and wondered, did he even know our mother? She actually used to go to estate sales all of the time because she would sell stuff on eBay. She always used to tell me how sad she thought it was that the family didn’t want to be bothered looking through the deceased’s stuff. She asked me never to do that if she died. I never would anyway. I know my mom was very sentimental, as am I. I want to touch and see everything she held. I want to find little treasures like a letter she wrote or card that she saved. My brother and Satan seemed like they wanted to be in control of everything……everything.
I was totally sure my brother would be gone by the time I came back. As mad as I had been with him, I still cared about him. I’ve made this analogy before, but seeing someone you love in a relationship with a narcissist, is like losing a family member to drugs. All you can do is sit back and watch them make horrible decision after horrible decision, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. I know my brother, or rather, I “knew” my brother and what kind of person he was. If it was any other girlfriend, I don’t think my brother would’ve left the hospital at all that night. He was gone for four hours. He was well aware of what was going on with my mom and where she was headed. If I were in his shoes, seeing that he had missed the majority of the last three years with her, I would’ve wanted to stay there and soak up every minute of time with her. That goes to show how much control a narcissist has over their victims and how afraid their victims are to go against them. My brother had a choice that night. He could’ve told his wife to entertain her friends on her own and he could’ve chosen to stay at the hospital. I know my brother and I know that one day he is going to be very sorry about the choices he made during this time. I wonder if he spoke to my mom during that time. If he told her he was sorry or told her he loved her. It makes me sad for him that one day he may see things clearly, but ultimately they are his choices and he is the one who will have to live with them and live with his regrets,….not me.
My brother left only minutes after I got there and once again, I was alone with my mom during this scary time. There was one saving grace though and that was my nurse friend, Kathy. My mom had been up in that same unit for an entire month now and that whole time Kathy was never actually assigned to be her nurse. Out of the kindness of her heart she checked up on her for me whenever she was working her shift. It just so ended up though that, that night, Kathy wasn’t even supposed to be there. She was covering for another nurse and she ended up miraculously being assigned to my mom’s room. If there was one thing to be happy about, that was it. I knew Kathy would take extra care of my mom and make sure she was ok and as comfortable as she could be.
I was in the room trying to set up the chair I was going to “sleep” in that night. Kathy came in to check up on us. We sat there for a few minutes both just stared at my mom. We started to discuss how peaceful she looked. Kathy tried to arouse my mom by saying her name but my mom kind of grunted and went back to snoring. The other nurse came in and she and Kathy discussed cleaning my mom up and putting a clean night gown on her. She had been in the same one for several days at this point in time and there was stains and blood on it. Normally I would stay in the room when they cleaned her up but Kathy told me, it was probably best if I left this time. When people are in the condition my mom was in, it wasn’t a pleasant experience and could be quite distressing to the family. I was fine with that and so I took a walk down stairs to get some fresh air.
When I got outside it had started to rain. I stood there close to the building and suddenly the rain started to really come down and the winds picked up. I saw a wheelchair flying across the street and it crashed into the curb. I remember thinking to myself, this is it. The storm was coming. It just seemed like something out of a Greek mythology tale. Like the sky’s we’re opening up to let my mom come in. The gods were coming to get her. Like the earth was angry for losing such a special person. I started thinking about the advice my cousin Nikki had told me and I knew that tonight was going to be the last chance I had and, so I k ew that this was the night for me to tell her all the things that we forget to say to one another on a day to day basis to the people we love.. Oddly enough though, kind of nervous and also I was scared. Scared that I would get too upset. Scared it was too late and she wouldn’t even hear me. Sacred I would freeze up and not know what to say.
I went back upstairs and the nurses were finished up and just tidying up the room I could tell at this point that she was awake. Her eyes were slightly opened. They left the room and it was just her and I, alone. I closed the door and sat down. I sat there and stared at her for a few minutes. I looked at her arms and the bruises she had from being stuck with so many needles for blood tests and for dialysis. Those were the arms that held me as a baby. Those were the arms that hugged me and comforted me so many times. I wished I could freeze time. I wished I could keep her here forever. I wished she didn’t have to go through all the things she went through. I scanned her over and looked at her hands. I didn’t get many of my mom’s physical features. We could never share shoes because my feet are much larger than hers. We could never share clothes either,but the one thing we’d always swap was rings. Our fingers were the exact same sizes, every one of them. I thought about my mom taking her rings off so she could roll the meatballs for her Sunday sauce. I realized I never learned how I never even learned how to make the meatballs and now it was too late. I just wanted to take everything in. Her face, her hair, her hands, just everything.
As I was sitting there I suddenly remembered something. There was something I wanted her to have with her. I had gone to her house a few days prior to look for this necklace that she had, that she always wore. When my dad passed back in 2006, she had gone to a jeweler with an idea that she got from a friend. She took his wedding band and had them bend it into a heart shape. They added also added a bail to it so it would hang on the chain, flat. For some reason though, I couldn’t find it. I looked in all of her jewelry boxes and it was nowhere to be found. I found her wedding band but not my dad’s and so I grabbed that. Then I remembered she and I had purchased these necklaces after my dad passed. They were crosses in which had a little screw at the bottom where you can put some of the ashes. I had been wearing mine for the whole time she was in the hospital. I took the necklace out of my pocket and quietly leaned over and said her name. Her eyes slightly opened up. I told her that I had something that I wanted her to hold close to her. I said to her, “this is the cross with daddy’s ashes, I know know much you have missed him for the last ten years and I want him to be close to you, so I’m going to wrap this around your hand and I want you to hold it.” I gently lifted her hand and wrapped it around and closed her hand on it. She was so weak she couldn’t even hold on to it. I then said, “go be with daddy. It’s ok, he is waiting for you.”. In the days prior my mom had been saying some strange stuff and she had mentioned my dad being there quite a few times. She also told someone she saw hands reaching out of her. That is actually a very common thing for people to do when they are dying. My dad did it too.
After that, words just came naturally to me. I told her what a good mother she was and how lucky I was that god choose her to be my mother. I told her that if I could be even half as good a mother to mey son as she was to me and my brother, that I’d be ok. I told her how I admired her dedication and how she put her heart into everything she did in life from being an employee to being a wife and mother, and how I was lucky to have her as a role model. I told her how strong she was and how she never gave herself enough credit. My mom always compared herself to her sisters. She would always tell me, “I’m the fat, ugly sister.” I don’t know why she looked down on herself like that and so I reminded her that she always compared herself to them yet she didn’t realize that of all of them she was by far the most beautiful because she had the biggest heart, and like she always used to tell me, “beauty is only skin deep. It’s what’s on the inside that counts”. Beauty means nothing if you have a rotten personality and black heart.
I was nervous for nothing. The words just came out. Naturally, and I told her everything I wanted to say to her. There was one thing that I know she needed to hear before she left this world and so I promised her that I would try my hardest to fix everything with my family but most importantly my brother. I think my mom’s biggest fear in this world was leaving it knowing that me and my brother would still be separated and wouldn’t be there for one another. I wanted her to know I’d try.
As I was talking to her, her head was leaned away from me facing in the opposite direction. I walked around the bed, then I got real close to her, and I bent down so she could see me in her line of vision. I told her try to look at me. To really try to focus. I saw her eyes straining to move. I promised her I was going to be ok, but I was going to miss her terribly. That was when suddenly I heard a noise come from her mouth. I couldn’t make it out. Her voice was extremely raspy and low. I asked her to say it again and out came three short, one syllable words, “I luh you.”. I looked at her and asked, “did you say I love you?”. She nodded her head once and then she just kept saying it over and over until her voice was no longer able to come out and just her lips were moving. I saw a tear drop from her eye and I started to cry and I told her I loved her too, more than she could ever know.
I love you wasn’t a phrase that was often said in our home. In the months prior there would be times I’d be with her and my brother would call and every time they hung up she’d say, “I love you.”. She didn’t say those words to me often and I don’t think it’s because she didn’t love me. I think it was just that we didn’t need to say that to one another all of the time. It was pretty obvious by the closeness of our relationship and how we talked to one another multiple times a day, everyday. The week prior to this day was really hard too. I felt like she was angry with me. She was snippy with me and had yelled at me a few times when I was trying to help her. I felt like she was annoyed by me being there and at times, maybe she didn’t want me there. I know now that is a common part of the process of dying. Anger and detachment. It’s something I guess we need to do to separate ourselves from the ones we love. I needed to hear those words at that time and I am so glad I did. It was a beautiful moment in such a horrible situation. I was happy about it but at the same time, completely devastated. I knew that it was the last time I’d ever hear those three words fromher mouth.
I sat there for a few moments and I could actually see she was finally relaxed. I watched her as she drifted back off into sleep. It was an emotionally intense situation. I needed to get up and take a lap around the building. I walked out the room and ran into Kathy. She told me to come take a break with her as she ate her late night dinner. I sat down in the break room with her and two other nurses. They shared some crazy stories with me and it was nice to forget what I was going though for a minute. I don’t know how those work do what they do. How they leave this shit at the hospital and manage to go home and be wives and mother’s without letting all that sadness affect them. I have a whole new appreciation for nurses. I really admire them and the work they do. It takes a special kind of person to do what they do.
I went back into mom’s room and sat there for a bit. I had probably only slept a total of four hours in the last two nights. It was starting to catch up with me. Kathy came back in and we sat there and talked for a while. I am not going to lie. My mom looked scary. She had her head turned to the side, one eye was wide open while the other was half way shut. Ten years ago I never would’ve imagined myself being able to sit there alone with someone I loved in such horrible condition and looking so scary. It’s an image that I don’t want to remember, but any time I think back to her time at the hospital, that is all I see in my head. I hope in time that vision fades. I do not want to remember my mother like that.
It was rounding 4:00am and I had set myself up as close to my mom as I could physically be. I wanted to be able to hold her hand and touch her. When my dad was in the hospital my mom slept in that chair every night and held his hand. My mom was the most fiercely loyal woman on theplanet. Her love was truly unconditional. I hated that she had to be in a hospital dying. I wished she could’ve had the privilege to be home on hospice as my dad was, but unfortunately it didn’t work out that way. My dad was in the hospital a week or so prior to his death. He made the decision to stop all treatment and go on hospice at home. He didn’t want to die in a hospital. My dad accepted his situation and in a strange way, his death gave me a whole new respect for him. He handled it all like a true man, like a father should. He sat all of us down one by one and talked to us about his decision. I will never forget that conversation. He told me he was going to stop treatment because he didn’t want to go through all the bullshit anymore. I told him, “dad although I don’t want to see you go, I understand. It’s YOUR life and I can see that you are tired of fighting.”. Back when my mom’s kidneys failed in the early 90’s, I remember being in the car with my dad one time on the way up to visit my mom in the hospital. My dad said to me, “if I ever get sick like your mother is, just kill me. I don’t ever want to be sick like that. I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I don’t know how she does it.”. I remembered him saying that and I told him, and my dad said one of the most meaningful things he had ever said to me, in my life. He said,” [my name] you are the only one who gets me.”. Those words meant a lot to me because I knew he wasn’t just talking about in this situation. He was talking in general terms. Of his four children, my brother, me and two half sisters from a previous marriage, he had very tense relationships with three. I think I was the only one who cut him some slack and understood the reasons as to why he was the way he was.
Anyway, I got off track there but my mom literally stuck right by his side as he was going through the transition of leaving this world and going to another. In the last few days of his life, either me or her were in the room. She hadn’t showered in days. She would only leave the room to get food or go to the bathroom. We were sitting there talking one day and my mom was saying how disgusting she felt and how badly she needed a nice hot shower. I told her to go and that my dad would be fine for a few minutes. We called my brother, who was living in the basement, to come upstairs and stay by his side. My mom turned on the water. At the time I was going through some old pictures of my dad so we could display him at his wake and I had all the albums and stuff laying on my mom’s bed. I left the room that he was in and went into their bedroom. The very second after I closed the door I heard my brother screaming, “he’s gone! He’s gone!”. It was the first time in three to four days that both me and my mom were both out of the room, at the same time. I truly believe he was waiting for a moment like that because he didn’t want us to see him take his last breath. I felt like my mom deserved the same thing. She deserved to leave this world with someone by her side, especially since she was so scared and not ready to die. She never made it to the acceptance stage. She didn’t have enough time.
I don’t even remember falling asleep that night. The last thing I remember was saying goodnight to my mom and kissing her of the forehead, then laying down and watching a video on my phone. At about 7:30 am I woke up to the sounds of beeping machines and Kathy and another nurse, talking in a dull whisper. I popped my head up and asked what was going on. She told me my mom’s heart rate went up extremely high and she was trying to calm her down. I was trying so hard to stay awake, but it felt almost as if someone was pulling my eye lids down. The previous night when the nurses were in and out of the room I’d pop up and feel wide awake. The first thing I’d do is look at her chest to see if she was still breathing. This time I was fighting to keep my eyes opened and I don’t even remember falling back to sleep.
At a few minutes after 8:00 I was awoken by someone saying,”sweetie…..sweetie, you need to wake up, this is it…your mom is going.”. I was a bit disoriented and so I looked up at the clock, and then right away realized where I was. My head shot over to the right of me to look at my mom’s chest, as I did all of those other times. I asked the nurse, “she’s not breathing?”. She said, “she just stopped “. As she was talking she grabbed my grabbed my mom’s wrist and held it, then said, “she still has a pulse.”. There was a long pause of silence, as I sat there staring at the nurse holding her wrist. It seemed like minutes, but was probably only a few short seconds. She then jerked back a bit, almost as if she was startled. She slowly put my mom’s arm down and said, “I have to call the doctor.”……..
….and just like that, at 8:04 in the morning on November 20th, 2016, my mom passed away…….
I had left the hospital and ran to my house to grab some of my stuff so I could sleep there. They had this baby blue, fake leather, recliner chair in my moms room and that was going to be my bed for the night. Aunt Debbie decided she wasn’t going to stay. Instead she was going to go home and sleep and come back early in the morning. It was super late. The nurse set me up with a blanket and pillow and I tried to get settled in, but I just couldn’t fall asleep. I was too nervous. I was just sitting there watching my mom’s chest go up and down as she breathed. She looked very peaceful and if there was anything to be happy about, that was it. I hadn’t seen her completely calm and peaceful in such a long time. Ever since she had her surgery to remove the 8″ cancerous mass and her kidney, back In February of 2016, it’s like a piece of her soul was left on that operating table. She just wasn’t the same. She seemed detached sometimes and like she was distracted by her own thoughts, or in her own world. Our conversations went from gossiping about who posted what on Facebook, to what new aches and pains or new symptoms she was feeling, which doctors she had to see next, and what prescriptions she needed to refill. I missed the regular bullshit conversations we used to have and I knew at this point we’d never have them again.
Before she left that night, my cousin Nikki gave me some advice. She told me that she read somewhere that the hearing was the last thing to go and so she told me talk to her and say the things I needed to say to her. I wanted to say things to her but I wanted to do it at a time where she was sort of awake and could hear me. I didn’t want to wake her because she looked so peaceful. I also felt a little uncomfortable talking to her, in that way, with another person in the room. The nurses were in and out and I just felt it wasn’t the right time to say those kind of thin with complete strangers, and so instead I took my chances and held out for the next day when hopefully she’d be in a private room. Remembering back to when my dad was at the end of his life,and how he was in his final days and hours, I didn’t think my mom was quite there just yet.
At around 3:30, 4:00 am I tried to fall asleep. The chair was terribly uncomfortable and not made to sleep in. It was old and I think maybe a bit broken because it wouldn’t stay locked into the recline position. Every time I’d move it would start folding in on me. I may have finally dosed off at about 4:30 but I didn’t sleep. Every few minutes something would wake me up. Whether it was the nurses coming in and out all night, the machines beeping because someone bent their arm and occluded their Iv port or people talking loudly in the halls, I kept getting woken up. Both my mom and her roommate were moaning and groaning in their sleep. They had put my mom back on her dulladin drip and so I’d hear her moan and I’d look over to see her fidgeting with the button, trying to press it, and I’d have to get up and press it for her. Every time I was awoken, I would jump up in a panic and then I wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep.
I don’t think I got a solid hour in a row of sleep until about 5:30/6:00am Around 7:30am I opened my eyes to see my brother sitting in the other chair, kind of staring at me. I asked him what time it was and he told me, and then he pointed to the table and tells me that be brought me a cup of coffee. He told me I could go home, (thanks for the permission) and that he’d be there and his wife, Satan would be up there in the afternoon. I actually wanted to go home so I could freshen up, take my pajamas off and out regular clothes on.
I got home and sat with my husband for a few minutes and told him what had happened during the night. I was exhausted but decided to just push myself to put clothes on and go back up there. I asked my husband if he could bring our son up there to say goodbye to his grandmother, one last time. I got dressed and went right back up there.
When I got there, the doctor came into the room and asked me and my brother to talk and so he told us that the patient who was in the single room was being discharged and that they were just waiting on housekeeping and they’d move us into that room so we could have private time with my mom. I was so grateful for that. Losing a family member like that is probably one of the most intensely emotional situations you can ever go through. It should be done in private, so the family can feel free to express themselves to the patient.
My brother told me around 12:00pm that he and his wife had called a representative from the funeral home and that they were going to come there around 3:30. I was really annoyed that he went and did that after asking me for my opinion and me saying no. There he goes being a team player again. I knew this was all Satan’s doing. She is a chronic planner (not sure if that’s even a thing, but it is now) and has to plan every hour of everyday of her life. I was so sorry my mom’s death was impeding on her life. I can say with 110% certainty that she was the one who not only suggested it, but she got in touch with the funeral director and coordinated everything. I can totally see preplanning a funeral for an elderly person or for someone who’s been battling something like dementia or Alzheimer’s before they get to the point where they can no longer express their wishes, but what happened to my mom was kind of unexpected and we knew she only had a matter of days or hours left with her.
My husband came up shortly after. I met him downstairs in the parking garage. We got in the elevators and made our way up to my mom’s floor. Some of my family had arrived by that point and when we were coming up, they were heading down to grab coffee and snacks from the cafeteria. My husband and I walked into the room thinking we were going to be the only ones in there. My mom was still in the double room at that point. We walk in and the curtain is all the way drawn so we couldn’t see my mom. As we finally get past the curtain we see my brother and Satan are sitting there, at her bedside. They didn’t see us right away and so I look down and I see Satan pulling out this packet of paperwork out of her bag. As soon as she realizes it’s us in the room she, quickly jams the papers back into her purse, which was a Michael Kors tote bag , and she puts her arm over it and pulls it tightly into her body. She’s all nervous and just starts babbling random shit with my brother. My husband whips his head around and looks at me as I do the same. I quietly say, “did you see that? What the fuck was the all about?”, and he replies, “I don’t know but it looked really fucking shady.”. Satan is holding on to her bag for dear life like Ben Stiller, at the end of Meet the Parents, when he’s on the plane with his luggage!
We couldn’t believe what we both saw. It was clear Satan had some type of document in her possession that she didn’t want anyone, especially us to see. It’s very obvious when someone is being sneaky. Both me and my husband have a pretty good read on these kinds of things. We knew it was something shady.
Me and my husband went downstairs and into the parking garage so I could have a cigarette and calm down. Once again we were left to speculate as to what was going on. We knew they were up to something and obviously had been formulating some sort of plan, exactly what, we didn’t know. I also started to question my mom and of all the things that happened in the last year, that’s probably the one thing I regret. My last text to her was on Tuesday Nov. 15th and it read,
“I have to tell you. I feel like something is going on. Like you’re not telling me something. Is there something you need to tell me? I know there’s something going on that I don’t know about. This whole thing with [my brother] and his wife and the camera is completely not making sense to me. Why they were putting cameras in the house??. I just don’t get it.” After that I wrote, “Ok. I’ve made you a priority in my life for the past ten years since daddy has been gone and especially in the last couple of years, months and weeks. I have sacrificed my time with my son and my husband to be there for you. I just want to know what’s going on. That’s all. I just knowsomething is not being said.”
“if you think I would do anything against you you’re out out of you’re miimh [sic].”
I didn’t think my mom would do anything to hurt me, but I knew she was holding back information from me. There were a few things said to me here and there that didn’t make full sense and I was able to tell there was more to it than what she was telling me. I know why she did it and I cannot even be mad. There were a few reasons, one being that she had to make peace with her son, so she can have her own peace, to absolve her of all the guilt she was made to feel because she stood up for herself. A lot of that guilt came from Aunt Bea. She made my mom feel like she was a terrible mother for putting her foot down and demanding respect. Although, she was in denial about her own situation and what my brother was doing, I think deep down inside she knew what was going on and I think she just wanted peace of mind. The other reason was that she didn’t want me to be alone. She knew how badly her death was going to effect me. About a week before she died I was up in her room visiting and out of nowhere she said to me, “[my nickname] I’m sorry.”. I asked her why she was sorry and she told me,” I’m sorry because I feel bad that this is what your life has become.”. I told her, “don’t be sorry for me, I’m fine. Feel sorry for yourself, you are the one who’s going through the hard stuff, not me.” I had to explain to her that there was a difference between “wanting” to be there and “having” to be there. I wanted to be there.
My husband and I were out in the parking garage and the more we talked the more angry we were getting. With everything else that was going on we thought maybe they were going to try to get my incapacitated mother to sign something. Maybe she had already signed something and they were just reviewing it. My husband was vexed and said he would go right up to her and ask him to show him what was in her bag. As badly as I wanted to grab her pocketbook like a mugger in Central Park; it was probably best if I let him handle this one, this time.
We made our way back up stairs and by the time we got up there the nurses had informed them that the private room was ready for us. My brother and Satan were moving all of her belongings out of the room and transferring them over to the other room. My husband and I entered the empty room where they were and we just sort of stood there quietly. I kind of blocked the doorway and my husband, holding my son, walked a little further in the room. Neither my brother or her made a peep. I watched them carelessly pile my mom’s belongings on the radiator. I looked over at my husband and I could see his mouth opening like he was going to say something but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead I just gestured to him to leave the room and we went back in to my mom’s room. He gave my mom one last kiss on the head and told her he loved her. He then held my son over her to give her a kiss. She didn’t even respond. Seeing my son say goodbye and knowing it was the last time he’d ever see her; well it was the most gut wrenching thing I had ever seen. I will have that vision, along with many others, burned into my memory forever.
My husband left and by that time almost all of my family was up there. They took over the waiting room once again. They even brought some wine which I totally thought was wrong, but whatever, to each their own. It was nearing 3:00pm and my brother told me that the woman from the funeral home was running a little late and would be there in a little while. I was already extremely annoyed with him and this wasn’t helping. I just said whatever and decided to go downstairs to blow off some steam. As I head for the elevators, I had to pass the waiting room where I see Aunt Bea coming out. I tried to speed up and walk away, but she walks up to me with this soft spoken voice, as if she were talking to a four year old, and asked me if I minded if my aunt and uncles sat in on the meeting. In reality, her and Uncle Bob wanted to sit in there because Uncle Bob seemed to think he had some type of control over my mom’s estate since Aunt Bea was one of the executors; and she can’t even tell her ass from her elbow when it comes to that kind of shit. She had to include everyone else so it didn’t look to obvious. I don’t remember my exact words but my response went something like this. “I really don’t give a fuck, in fact I don’t give a fuck about any of this fucking bullshit because I think it’s a huge fucking waste of time….do what you want.”. With that, I walked away and got on the elevator.
I was so angry. Once again no one in my family speaks up. I know I wasn’t alone either. There absolutely were others who thought that it was a huge waste of time and completely fucked up, but no one felt like it was their place to say so. I understand that no one wants to be that person and start drama, but it sucked that no one had my back. It was such an unnecessary thing to do. I was pacing back and forth in the parking garage when I spotted a woman holding a tote bag and she had a little name badge on and I recognized the logo on her badge from the funeral home, so I followed her inside and ended up on the same elevator as her. I was so annoyed I could literally feel my blood boiling. I got off the elevator and walked down to my moms room to put my stuff down. As I was heading there I round the corner to see Satan walking shoulder to shoulder with the woman from the funeral home. Something about seeing her with this big, shit eating grin on her face, like she was enjoying the fact that my mom was on her death bed, really bothered me. I don’t even know what came over me but I walked and stopped right in front of them. Looking down at Satan who’s a few inches shorter than I am, I said, “what the fuck are YOU talking to her for, this is none of your business. It’s my mother.”. I could tell Satan was taken aback for a second and finally she says, “I’m not doing anything!”. That’s always her response.I wasn’t surprised. I told her good, don’t do anything, this is MY mother. I knew all of this was her doing but she will try to convince me it was my brother’s idea. I wanted her to know she was not going to pull this shit anymore. That she was not going to push me around and control my mother’s funeral. She neededto know not to mistake my tolerance for weakness and my weakness for stupidity. I also wanted her to know she wasn’t welcome in the meeting either. She turned around and stormed off down the hall.
I was just so angry that day from everything. These situations are hard enough on their own without the extra bullshit. My mother was still breathing, a few doors down and we are sitting in a hospital waiting area planning her funeral. It just felt wrong and I really wanted no part of it, but I knew if I didn’t go in there, I was going to have no say in anything. I couldn’t seem to calm myself down. My heart was racing a million miles a minute and I could feel my body shaking. I could feel my anger trying to escape my body like the Incredible Hulk. I couldn’t sit down and so I went to the furthest corner of the room and squatted down as my body shook. One by one my mom’s siblings shuffled in. All were there except one. Surprisingly my Uncle Bob didn’t come in. My cousin Nikki was the only cousin there too, and she sayt directly opposite me in the other corner of the room,and we kept looking at each other the whole time, just shaking our heads in disbelief. She was the only one who got it. I found out later that Satan left the hospital all pissy because I had said something to her. Good. It was about time.
There was an awkward tension in the air and I know it all had to do with me. I didn’t care. Even the woman from the funeral home looked a little uncomfortable. She started to ask my brother for some basic information and it was actually kind of humorous listening to him struggle to find answers of for the most basic of questions like what was my mom’s job title at her place of employment. I let him make a fool out of himself. This was his show; not mine. The woman then gets to the part where she asks if my mom has a will. I look at my brother who replied “ummmmm, I don’t know.”. I couldn’t believe he was sitting there playing dumb in front of my whole family, me so I couldn’t stop myself stop myself, out loud I said,”[brother’s name] really? Cmon man, you know she has a will! Stop lying, you snuck into her safe how many times in the last few months??”. He then said, “well…well… well I didn’t know if she had it changed or not.”. I said, “no she never did. She has a will and ir names her ( I pointed to aunt Debbie) and her (aunt Bea) are the executors. Stop the lying already!”. Aunt Debbie then jumps in and says, “ok this isn’t the time for that.”. I looked up at her and said, “yeah? Well it’s not the time for lying either!”. I was so sick of my brother playing stupid. He knew exactly what he was doing.
There wasn’t much more we could accomplish there except for discussing her basic info and talking about how many days we were looking to have the wake. It was a huge waste of time, just as i knew it was going to be. We still had to go to the funeral home to finalize things. The same thing could’ve been accomplished in a simple phone call. It really didn’t save us time or do anything else for that matter. We just got the formalities out of the way. All it was was a big old show to make it look like my brother actually gave a shit about my mom. They just wanted to put a show on for the family, at the expense of the precious time my mom had left.
At the end she was about to give us an estimate for the two days of wake service and cremation costs. As she was adding everything up, people started to shuffle p out of the room, leaving just me and my brother there alone. A few seconds after everyone leaves the room, my uncle bob opens the door and comes walking in with his chest puffed out like she’s some type of tuff guy. He didn’t even look at me. Instead he walks right over to my brother, sits down in the seat right next to him and pats him on the back as if to console him. He didn’t look at me at all during the whole rest of the meeting. I fucking hate that asshole. He made it very clear to me that day by doing that. He had chosen a side and clearly, it wasn’t mine.
It was really nice that my mom had her own room. We could all sit in there and not have to worry about disturbing anyone else. There was a very somber tone in the room. I wonder to this day if my mom was at all conscious while everyone was there and if she heard everyone’s voices and knew we were all there. I do not remember if she even opened her eyes, while everyone was there. The more she slept, the closer I knew she was to leaving us. I realized that night that my mom was the unique one out of her whole family. When you come from a large family where the siblings’ ages span over a decade, their tends to be little cliques in within the family unit. The older siblings tend to be closer with one another and the youngest seem to stick together too. My mom was closest with Aunt Debbie and Aunt Bea but kept a special relationship with each and every one of her siblings and each and everyone of them valued that and valued her and the things she for them. She made everyone feel special in their own way.
She always made sure to periodically call all of them to see how they were. I don’t think the rest of them call each other as much as my mom called all of them. I know she’s my mom and people are not going to talk negatively about her, but I have heard each one of them talk about others but I never heard anyone talking negatively about my mom. In fact, it seems she really stood out. I was told by almost all my Aunts and Uncles stories about how she’d go out of her way to make everyone feel special. For instance her youngest sister would always tell me how of all the sisters, my mom always treated her the best. She would always buy her stuff when she was a kid. Being that she was so much younger, when my mom was was a manager at a store she’d bring my aunt to work with her all of the time and pay her to work for the day. She’d also buy her things she needed like new shoes, help her with her homework and pay her to do chores like fold her laundry, so she can have a little pocket money to buy candy and stuff. My aunt told me that my mom was the only one who did that. My mom was the one that everyone used to turn to for advice and her opinion was always respected. I’m proud to say that she taught me to treat people with the same care and kindness.
My heart really broke for my grandmother. She didn’t leave my moms side for the entire two days. She just sat there staring at her, saying, “that’s my baby.”. . I really feel like she got lost in all of this. I’m not saying my aunts and uncle’s don’t care about her. They all do a great deal, but I think sometimes they just write her off as this old lady who can’t hear that good and they’re so wrapped up in their own god damned feelings about things, that no one really sat with her and comforted her or discussed how she felt about everything. I made it a point to sit down next to her (as did my cousin Nikki) and really ask her how she was feeling about everything and how she was holding up. . I couldn’t imagine what was going through her head having just found out how really sick my mom was. I sat down next to her and just held her hand. Here it was three generations of women and one who going well before her time.
It was around 6:00-7:00 in the evening when my brother stood up and announced he was going to go home for a little bit but he’d be back. Had he left it at that, I wouldn’t have thought much of it but he goes on to tell whoever else was in the room at the time that he has a party going on at his house! Apparently his wife had offered their house up for a friend’s, sister’s 50th birthday party. He goes on to make this lame excuse that they couldn’t cancel it because they didn’t have any way of getting in touch with all of the people. He then buried himself by saying they were all invited via Facebook. Maybe it’s just me but I found it kind of ridiculous that he’d even entertain a party while his mom was in the hospital dying, and if these people were “friends”, you’d think they’d understand what was going on and move their party elsewhere.
It wasn’t until about 11:00pm that he ended up coming back. By that time my family started leaving. I had to go home too, to grab clothes for another long night……
My brother got up to the hospital shortly after talking to him. We paged the doctor and he was there within minutes (which is highly unusual). He explained the same things he had told me, to my brother, and thankfully my brother agreed with my “choice.” It wasn’t really much of a choice though. It was really the only option we had.
He explained to us that it could be hours or days until she actually passed. About a week prior to this there was a woman in my mom’s room who was clearly at the end of her life. She was older than my mom by many years and I could tell she was in her last days. She was sleeping non-stop and when the nurses would come in, she would start screaming at them, telling them to leave her alone and to not touch her anymore. This anger and agitation is a very common part of the process. Anyway, this poor woman had no visitors for days until her sons finally showed up. They moved her into a private room where she passed away peacefully. I asked the doctor if it was possible we could do the same for my mom and he told me he’d try his best to get us that room.
Although I saw this coming from a mile away, I was still in complete shock. There were no questions anymore. No hope. My mother and best friend was going to die. People say it’s “easier” sometimes when you know before hand. They say you can prepare yourself. In a wa yes, but in reality, nothing can ever prepare you for losing someone. In a way it’s almost harder because while you know it’s going to happen, you don’t know when and so you are stuck in a constant t state of anxiety. I knew this was coming since the day I heard she had a rare and aggressive form of cancer. I read many articles about cancer in immunocompromised patients and what the survival rates were and statistically, they were not good. I knew it would be a while but not knowing how or when was what made it so hard for me. Losing my mom was my biggest fear not just for that month or year but for my whole life. Since the day I was born I had this connection to her where I never wanted to let her go. My mom used to tell me this story all of the time about how no one could hold me except her, when I was a baby. My aunts used to get mad because they wanted to hold me but every time my mom would hand me to one of them I would scream bloody murder until they gave me back over to my mom. One time her and Aunt Debbie decided they’d try to fool me and so they went into another room and switched shirts. Aunt Debbie picked me up but her face was turned away. She said right away I knew something was wrong and so I kept trying to pull Aunt Debbie’s face toward me. Finally she gave in and and turned her head and as soon as I did, I started to scream for my mom! No one can ever take her place.
It was my husband’s 40th birthday that day and it killed me when I had to call him and tell him the worst news I’ve ever delivered to another human being. My husband had a really good relationship ship with my mom. He was better to her than her own son was. He always called to check on on her and sometimes he’d go over there on Saturday mornings while I was still sleeping, so she could see our son. I knew this news was going to hurt him too. I asked him to come up and if he could bring my son so he could see her in hopes that maybe she’d remember it.
The night before, when I was up at the hospital, I was trying to clean up my mom’s room. I was just fidgety and didn’t know what to do with myself. I just wanted to keep her awake and talking to me so I kept asking her questions what she wants to do with this or that. She wasn’t really responding much except for “yes’s” or “no’s”. She was sleepy and she was kind of trying to talk, but she was kind of going in and out. I asked her, “what is it ma? What do you want?” She looked at me and said, “I just want my family.” and so I remembered her saying that to me and I knew that meant she wanted me to get them there.
One by one my aunts; uncle’s and cousins all started to pour into the hospital. All 5 of her siblings were there with their husbands or wives (except for Aunt Debbie who is twice divorced) and a lot of my 12 cousins, also came. They set up shop in the waiting room where my brother and I had just sat down with the social worker, the day prior. Everyone took turns going in and out of my mom’s room to visit with her. It was sort of overwhelming. Everyone was crying and in shock. I don’t think anyone realized how bad she really was and later I found out why. They were being misinformed by my brother and his wife.
Satan told us she had to leave to go to the doctor and it was nice not having to see her around for a little while. My brother was actually spending some time with my mother. He hadn’t been up there in days. I could see in his face that there was a lot going on in his head. My brother was very quiet that day. I wondered exactly what it was, that was going through his head or if he even cared. I wondered if he had any regrets that he hardly saw her or acted like she existed for almost three years. That in and of itself just made me sad. I loved my brother, but I just hated who he had become. It still hurt me to know he was going to have to live with all that regret for all the fighting they had done. Prior to Satan my brother had a very good and very close relationship with our mom. He would keep in regular contact with her and make sure to visit her at least once a week. It was sad to me that he let someone else spoil that.
Another difficult part of that day was when my grandmother arrived. She was about to get the shock of her life. My grandmother had no idea that my mom even had cancer. My mother elected not to tell her. I thought it was a very bad choice and she was doing my 89 year old grandmother a disservice. When I asked her why she didn’t want my grandmother to know, my mom told me that Aunt Bea had decided that it would be best that at 89 years old, she didn’t have to worry! Aunt Bea thinks she’s the mother. How fucking dare she make that decision for her and for my mom. That is not her story. I was really disappointed in my mom. They think they were protecting her but all they were doing was hurting her. I tried to put myself in her shoes and think which I’d be more upset about, knowing my daughter had cancer and being able to mentally prepare myself and making sure I talk to her and spend as much time as possible with her, or not knowing she had cancer for an entire year and then finding out when is too late. I sorted avoided my grandmother for the last few months when things started to slowly decline because if I was talking to her, and she asked me any questions, I was NOT going lie to her and like I felt about Aunt Bea, it was not my story to tell. Many of the nurses in the hospital had this same talk with my mom. They would ask if her mother knew what was going on and my mom would say no and then the nurses would all say the same thing, that my mom was doing her a disservice. By this time I think my mom had lied so long she felt too bad having to explain herself.
My husband left and went home to watch my son. I really wished he could stay because I could’ve used someone to be on my side. I felt like I was virtually alone. The whole time my mom was in the hospital, out of five of my aunts, only one reached out to me and that was my mom’s youngest sister. Of all my cousins, the only ones who checked in on me was my oldest cousin Nikki. She was the only one who consistently called me. My aunt Bea and my aunt Debbie weren’t being mean but they were kind of ignoring me and giving me the cold shoulder. Likewise, I was kind of avoiding them. I was avoiding almost everyone. My cousin Nikki was by my side the whole time and I could never thank her enough for treating me kindly, having some compassion and understanding. She actually listened to me vent and actually tried to empathize with me. No one else wanted to hear anything I had to say and that really sucked because I think if they knew the story they’d understand why I was the way I was at that time.
In the late afternoon I was in the waiting room with some of my family. Aunt Bea, uncle Bob a few others were in my mom’s room. Satan came back from her Doctors appointment. She walks in and my aunt Debbie asks her how her doctors appointment was and suddenly she pulls this sheet of paper out of her purse and starts reading it to everyone. Her reason for going to the doctor was because she had an upper respiratory infection. Anyway, she starts reading off what the doctor prescribed to her, antibiotics, a cough syrup and……. oxycodone (aka Vicodin or Percocet) . My aunt D yells out, “oxycodone? What kind of doctor is prescribing you oxycodone for an upper respiratory infection?”. Satan says, “I guess this doctor.”. “My aunt D says jokingly, “Damn wish my doctor would do that!”. Satan made a comment that she had bottles and bottles of it at home. It sounded highly suspicious to me. This was not the first time she had made mention about having pills. She had mentioned it a few times to different people and I personally think she has an addiction to them.
My mom was mostly unresponsive that day. This may sound strange but it was kind of relieving to see her sleeping. I felt as if anytime she was awake she was suffering, whether it was from physical pain, or mental and emotional pain, and it was hard to watch her going through any of that. She was comfortable and that was all that mattered. They had put her back on the pain pump and told us we could press it every hour for her. She held on tightly to that thing. There were a few times when she popped her head up and said hello to people but it was almost as if she were in a dream like state because she was so heavily medicated. I was told that every time she woke up and I wasn’t in the room the first thing she’d do is look for me and ask where I was. She also woke up for my husband and my son which made me so happy yet unbelievably sad knowing that it was the last time she’d probably say his name or be able to acknowledge his presence. She was able to recognize faces and that gave me a weird peace too. I was glad she knew her family was by her side, like she wanted.
Later that night I was in the room sitting on her bed and she opened her eyes and looked around the room. Someone asked her how she felt and she said “good but it’s scaring me that everyone is here.”. I said to her, “Everyone is here because they love you.”. I stated to cry and then She looked over at me and said, “[my nickname] you’re scaring me.”. I was trying to choke back my tears. I didn’t want to scare her but I knew she wanted her family around. I still to this day don’t know if it was right that I didn’t tell her she was dying. I was always honest with my mom. We had a very honest relationship. I just didn’t see what good it was going to do her at that point. I think she knew. I think she knew all along and didn’t want to tell me because she didn’t want to scare me either. That’s something I am always going to wonder about.
The doctor came back to me and my brother to check up and see how we were all doing. He told me that he was reserving the private room for us. The patient that was in there was supposed to be discharged at some point the next day. He asked how I was doing and I didn’t even know how to answer him. He then said to me, “you did an amazing job caring for your mom.” He leaned in and gave me A huge hug. It felt good to hear that from someone because there were many times that I questioned if I was doing the right thing or everything I could do. I knew I was never going to get that validation from my brother or my two aunts who were supposedly closest to my mom and so, to hear it from a professional and someone who deals with this stuff all of the time, it really helped.
When the doctor walked away my brother asked me if we could talk privately. I really didn’t have much to say to him but I agreed. We walked down the hall and he turns to me and says, “tell me what you think, me and [Satan] were thinking of calling someone from the funeral home to come down here tomorrow so we can start making arrangements.”. I just looked at him for a moment, in complete shock and then I asked, “Why?” and reminded him, “She’s still here.”. He tried to sell me the idea by telling me that he wanted her to get into this specific funeral home because my dad’s wake was there and the holidays were coming up. I hated having to argue but I thought it was a TERRIBLE idea and completely unnecessary. Why waste an hour talking to some funeral director when we can spend that hour with her? Besides, there was absolutely no need to pre-plan her funeral. Had she died in a car accident or something we would’ve had to go after the accident and plan it. If we couldn’t get her in the same funeral home, oh well. There’s 100 others around. I didn’t want to get into it but I told him I didn’t think it was necessary and he seemed rather annoyed that I didn’t agree with him. I explained that I didn’t believe it was going to save us any time afterwards. We would still have to go there and pick out Mass cards and a casket, etc. They couldn’t bring their showroom to the hospital. I told him I didn’t want to argue and I didn’t think it was a good idea and and I just walked away.
I really don’t know what all of this stupid bullshit was about. It was all a show, for him and his wife, to make it seem like they were being helpful and actually gave a shit about my mom. To me however, it was insulting. Where was he when she had her surgery and went home barely able to walk? Where was he when she fell at 11:30 at night and needed an ambulance? Where was he when she was up for three days straight because she was in so much pain? Where was she when she was at the emergency room in horrible pain? Where was he for any of it? He showed up when it was convenient for him and did the bare minimum just to keep himself from looking like a complete heartless asshole. Now all of the sudden he wants to come in, in the 11th inning and be the here by doing completely uncecessary bullshit? If I were him I wouldn’t have wanted to do anything but sit there and soak up every last minute that I had with her.
It was getting late, almost midnight. I decided to “sleep” at the hospital. My aunt Debbie said she was going to stay too. I was kind of happy in a way. I thought it would give us some time to talk and hopefully fix things between us. Since I hadn’t spoken to her in months I didn’t tell her all of the crazy shit that was going on. Plus, it would be nice to have somewhere to talk. I’m not going to lie either, I was scared being alone and knowing my mom could’ve died at any moment.
I went into my moms room and some family members were starting to leave. I had to run back to my house which was only a short four miles away and get some comfortable clothes to wear and my contact lens case. I sat down on the foot of my mom’s bed. My Aunt Bea was seated on the other side. People were walking in and out of the room for the entire day and I felt bad for the elderly woman who shared a room with my mom. It’s hard enough to sleep in the hospital as it is. I mean you really don’t sleep. There’s always nurses coming in to take your vitals or people screaming, announcements over the loudspeaker, carts rolling down the hallway, nurses talking really loud, janitorial staff cleaning, other patients yelling, etc. I expressed my concern for the old woman. I said I felt bad that there was so much activity going in and out and that she was probably tired and wanted to get some rest. Aunt Bea heard me and I thought she’d also try to empathize and say “what if that was my mother?”. No, instead she waves her hand and says, “Oh fuck her!!” and then proceeds to stick her middle finger up towards the curtain that divided the room in half. I know this sounds silly and isn’t really a big deal, but when she did that, it really bothered me and really made me think. Small moments like that could really show you a person’s true character. Over the last few months of my mom’s life I really started to see everyone’s character much more clearly than I ever did before, my Aunt Bea especially. If you didn’t know her the way I do, you’d be shocked by her doing that. Aunt Bea is always the first one to send you a birthday card or call you to wish you a happy birthday. She will compliment you and praise you and make you feel special but behind your back she will mother fuck you, to no end. I started to see who she really was long before this day and believe it or not, Facebook is what exposed her. I just started to notice how incredibly fake she was. She’s an ass kisser. She’s a phony and she’s a manipulator. Her whole life is based on worrying about how she’s perceived by others and looking perfect, and so she goes above and beyond to manufacture this imagine of a loving, caring, honest, thoughtful, god fearing, empathic Saint; but in actuality, that’s not who she is at all. She’s quite the opposite of everything she portrays herself to be. She’s a very ugly person.
Aunt Bea made my mom feel like shit. She gave my mom her kidney, and then I guess to her, that meant that she had the right to treat my mom less than human. I believe a lot of it was out of jealousy. My mom had a lot of traits and ways about her that I believe my Aunt wanted. My mom was smart, intelligent, and well read. She was independent and did everything for herself. She didn’t depend on my dad to do it for her. She was a dedicated worker and was recognized for it. She was an amazing mother, who until three years ago, had really good relationships with both my brother and myself. Aunt Bea possessed none of those skills. She would always say things to me like “oh, well your mother is so smart, she reads all those books and she can figure anything out…she’s good like that. I have hardly read any books.“. It goes to show how stupid she really is because reading books didn’t make my mom smarter than her. My mom was smarter because she took interest in things other than herself. If she didn’t know how to do something, she’d try to figure out another way. She listened to other people speak and absorbed information, and yes, she read books too. That’s what made her smarter. Reading a book didn’t make her any smarter.
I am an empath by nature. A lot of my crying that day was because I was feeling the pain of everyone around me. I would look at my grandmother and think, “Wow. She is 90 years old. She lived through so much.”. Born in the mid 1920’s, she has seen everything from the Great Depression to the Vietnam war, to the gulf war, to Iraq and 9/11. She watched people much younger than her by many years, die off one by one. My grandfather and all four of his siblings have passed on and she outlived all of them and now here she is, at 90 years old and she is losing her baby. Her and my mom had a very special bond and I think it’s because of all of the siblings, my mom took on the most of her traits. It hurt me to know that. It doesn’t matter how old you are or your child is, you should not die before your child. I’d look at her and just think about how hard this must be for her and I’d cry.
As for my aunt Debbie, her and my mom were the closest of the two sisters. They were the only ones who were single and lived independently. When my dad died, my aunt Debbie would call my mom up in the morning before work and they’d stay on the phone until it was time to leave. They’d then get in their cars and talk to one another while they were driving in. They did this every morning for the last ten years. If my aunt Debbie bought something, she’d call my mom up and tell her about it and a few days later, she’d have the same thing. They drove the same truck and all, just different colors. At the hospital that day, I could physically feel her pain.
I left the hospital and a few more people hung out until I got back. I knew it was going to be a long night….
The next day I went to the hospital and sat down with my mom to propose the idea of her coming to live with us. I would be her full time care taker. I told her that my husband and I discussed it and we would set her up in our family room. She would have her own private space. It would be like a small studio apartment. We would figure out how get her back and forth to dialysis. My mom was very excited about the idea. I knew I could not stop her cancer from taking her but if she was going to do hospice, she was going to do so surrounded by the people she loved. I assured her that everyone was welcome to visit her, including my brother and his wife and that she would be able to have her own private life away from us. She was really excited about it. If the cancer was going to take her, fine but I was not about to promote her slowly poisoning herself to death by stopping dialysis.
It was hard though because my mom seemed to be a little more in denial than I had originally believed. She still seemed to think she was heading to a rehab facility, and there was a chance of her coming home, and that coming to my house was going to be a stepping stone to her going home and resuming a normal life. She was determined to live. The doctor who told me about hospice told me that my mom would have to be able to sit in a chair for at least 4 hours if continuing dialysis was even going to be an option for her,and so I pushed her to try.
It was Friday the 11th when I went up to the hospital and that day she sat in the chair for an hour. It was a huge accomplishment. I was at least relieved that she was willing to give it a shot. My brother came that afternoon, after four days of not coming to visit her and he finally took his camera. My mom told me he called her later that afternoon and he was pissed and told her to tell me that I owed him $200 for the camera that I smashed. I was pissed too. Pissed that there even was a camera for me to l smash, but more so, I was pissed that he was even bothering her with this stupid bullshit. I said to her, “I knew this was going happen.”, and then I told her not to even worry about it. She asked me what I did to it, that he said it was “destroyed”. Again I laughed and said, “I knew that too was going to happen and that’s why I took photos of it before I brought it back up…. because I knew they were going to exaggerate the damage.”. There was a few surface scratches on the back. My mom kept going, “well he said he cannot sell it.”. I responded, “ok.” Then she said, “I will give him the $200 for the camera, I will pay for it.”. I turned around and said, “No! no! You will NOT pay for it. I will. It was my mistake. I will pay for it and that’s it. I don’t want to even discuss this stupid shit anymore.”.
My blood was boiling at that point in time. I really wanted to fucking kill my brother. My mom was dealing with enough bullshit. All that kept playing in my head was the word ,’terminal’and the word, ‘hospice’. Everything else was so fucking insignificant to me at that point . I had to wonder, what was wrong with him that he would even think it was appropriate to bring this fucking bullshit up to her? Why wouldn’t he just come to me and ask me to pay for it? Now, not only was he making her feel badly about it, but he was stressing her out. I seriously didn’t even care at that point in time about playing his stupid games and so I didn’t even pay it anymore attention. He had put me through enough bullshit in those last few weeks.
That same night my mom was trying to go on her iPad, but it kept freezing up. My mom was very into her iPad, and not seeing her on it, or looking at Facebook, for the last three weeks, was very strange, and a good indicator of how bad of shape she was in. I took a look at her iPad and sure enough it was just frozen. It wouldn’t move. I asked her if she had done anything to it, and she told me that my brother put the Nest app (for their camera ) on it so she could have access to the camera. I asked if he had done anything else and she said she didn’t know. All of her apps were updating at the same time and you couldn’t open any of them. I told her I’d take it home and try to fix it for her. She told me she couldn’t even use her phone because she was having trouble seeing, even with her glasses on.
I finally got my mom to agree to try the antidepressant the doctors offered to her and they agreed to start her in a few days. She needed it. The doctors told her it would take a few weeks to feel the full effects of it. That Saturday she told me to go to her house and get her reading glasses. I wondered if the antidepressant was effecting her eye sight. I knew my mom had to be severely depressed to agree to start taking medication for it but I was hoping maybe it would take the edge off and make her act more like herself. I felt like even though I was spending so much time with her, it was like I haven’t seen her, the real her, for months. Pretty much ever since she got her surgery in February she was not the same. It was like she never recovered fully from it. I missed shopping with her and talking on the phone with her. I missed our conversations about everyday things like gardening and makeup products. I even missed gossiping with her. What can I say? I’m a woman. I felt like all we did was talk about how she felt, what the doctors said, blood tests, MRI’s and hospitals. I wanted my mom back and I thought maybe the antidepressant would help me get at least some of that back. Maybe it was selfish of me.
That night though it was quiet and we got a chance to kind of bond in that way. Since she couldn’t get out of bed, she couldn’t bathe or shower. Her hair hadn’t been washed in weeks and she hadn’t been able to do any other type of grooming. I know this is maybe too much information, but she asked me to bring some wax strips up to the hospital. They had pretty much doubled or tripled her dose of prednisone which is a steroid that helps calm inflammation. It does so by suppressing part of the immune system. It also comes with a whole host of,sort of unpleasant side effects. I remember back when she first got her transplant and she had just started taking it. Prednisone makes you more hungry, and therefore, more likely to gain weight. The weird thing though, is that it redistributes fat, which means you may puff up in weird places like your face. In women it could cause facial hair to grow, and so it’s a good idea to invest in some hair removal products if you are on it because you will constantly need them.
We had a mini, spa night. I cleaned up all the unwanted hair. I helped her brush her hair and rub lotion on her feet and part of her legs. My mom struggled with her weight for as long as I could remember and it was alarming to see how much muscle mass and weight she lost off of her legs. After one week of bed rest you lose up to 12% of your muscles. By week three, 50%. When she was still in a lot of pain she was constantly asking me to pick her her leg and put a pillow under it or remove a pillow from under it. I would pick up her leg and what used to be a solid leg now felt like a bone with some skin hanging off of it. It was hard to see that. It was hard to see all the physical effects that her illness was having on her. Her skin looked dull and had a pale, greyish undertone. I was just glad I could make her feel better even if by doing such small favors for her.
I went back up to the hospital Sunday morning and hung out for a little while it was sometime in the late afternoon that I got a phone call from my husband that my brother had text him once again about his stupid fucking camera. He wrote, “for some reason [me] decided to smash the camera before giving it back. I already talked to my mom about this. Since she doesn’t work, are you going to give me the money for a new one?”. My husband was so done with my brother’s bullshit and so he answered, “She gets a weekly allowance. You can deal with her.“. My brother came back,“fine we will file a claim in small claims (court). You will both be served shortly.”
My husband was fucking livid, and as angry as he was, you could take my anger and multiply it by 100 and that’s how angry I was. First off, I was still pissed that he was harassing my mom about this stupid camera. Second, I was pissed that he contacted my husband after I asked him not to. Third, why was he even contacting my husband, at all? Why wouldn’t he text me? Just because he needs to do everything through his wife, doesn’t mean that’s the way the rest of the world does things. Fourth, I mean really you’re going to bring your own sister and your brother-in-law to fucking small claims court over a fucking camera that you voluntarily GAVE up ownership to? That would be dumb considering I have a text where he says he gave it to my mom. Fifth, and probably the worst, was that he was wasting so much fucking time worrying about this stupid fucking camera. Seriously, this camera was his top priority. I couldn’t believe that anyone would even think any of that shit was even remotely important, considering that their mother was in a hospital, fighting for her life. All that time and effort he wasted going to her house and setting it up, and then going back to check on it, was time he could’ve been spending with her.
I didn’t even want my mom to know what was going on but my blood was boiling. He was such a liar, acting as if the camera was now useless and unsellable. If it was such a piece of garbage why did he go back to my mom’s house and retrieve the box after he got it back? Why would he need the box to a smashed camera that he couldn’t sell? This was nothing more than spite. I admit I was completely. wrong for throwing it, but this could’ve wanted to be dealt with at a later date in time. It’s not like him and Satan were broke or hard up for cash. He’s driving around Mercedes and living in a $500,000 house in an upper middle class neighborhood. I’m sure he could spare the money for another few weeks until we figured out what was going on with my mom. We all had enough stress at the time. All this petty bullshit could’ve been settled at another time.
I did not want to explain what was going on to my mom, and so I told her I was going to go back to my house to try and fix her iPad because the glasses I brought up weren’t helping her see any better, on her phone. I got into my car and called my husband. He read the rest of th text exchange with my brother to me. After the small claims court threat my husband responded, “good if that’s what you want to do. [sic] Why don’t you try taking to your sister? You haven’t tried once.” My brother replied with, “she told me to never call her again.” Actually, I told him never to contact EITHER of us again and so we now know that excuse is a big fat lie.
I was really shocked at my brother and the way he was acting about this camera. All of this was just so out of character for him. I felt like I was in the twilight zone. None, and I repeat NONE of his behavior over the last three weeks was typical behavior for him. I couldn’t see him ever taking charge and going to my moms house and rifling through her personal information. I couldn’t see him concocting a plan to plant a camera in her house or giving a shit that she chose me to be her healthcare proxy. Hell, I couldn’t imagine my brother being mad at me for three years over a dress that I chose to wear to his wedding. I have known him my whole life and there is not one person out there who will ever convince me that he was the brainchild of ANY of this shit. It’s just not who he was. Period.
After my husband told him to deal with me, he decided to text me this “since you smashed the camera before giving it back, are you going to be giving me $200 for it, out of your weekly allowance?”. I replied to him, “didn’t I tell you NOT to contact me and my husband anymore? This is bordering on harassment now (I can play the veiled threats game too!). Why don’t you worry about your mother who is dying? (He hadn’t been to the hospital in days). If the camera is so worthless and unsellable now, why’d you need the box for it? You are so fucking full of shit and I am done. You can bring me to small claims court.” He replied, “Will do.”
After that I felt it was time to really give him a piece of my mind I wrote back, “man [brothers name] you and your wife are the most vindictive people on the planet. Really [brother’s name]; this is really what’s important to you right now? A fucking camera? Why was it there to begin with? So mommy can get a nice view down her hallway? You sneaky fucks are the ones who need cameras pointed at you.”
I couldn’t stop, I sent that and then another, “and like a little pussy you’re up at the hospital bothering mommy about this fucking bullshit. Do you see what this is doing to her? I’ll be sure to notify the social worker that you are adding non-necessary stress to her life right now and making her worse. Maybe you should spend your time with her instead of at the bar getting drunk like your 21 years old. Really man, get your shit together”.
I then explained, “the doctors said the word terminal to me. Do you need the fucking definition of what that means. She’s fighting for her LIFE! And you are bothering her with this TRIVIAL bullshit? That is probably what you wanted you piece of shit!”.
My phone started ringing. It was him calling me. I didn’t want to talk to him. I text him back and said, “I’m up at the hospital, I’m not talking to you. You wasted enough of my time.”. I wasn’t about to sit there while he tried to manipulate me. I just wanted this shit to stop.
He wrote back to me, ” I understand the word terminal. She has stage four cancer. And I spoke to the doctor today. He said she’s on the upward trend and responding to treatment.”
I was stunned. First off, I don’t what doctor he spoke to that day but when I spoke to the doctor he told me the exact opposite. I saw with my own eyes that, that wasn’t the case. Even if it was, she still was in very bad shape and had some extremely difficult hurdles to get over, just to get herself into a rehab facility. So now, an upward trend justifies him crying to her, like a little baby, about his broken camera? What little respect I had left for him completely disappeared, right then and there. I wrote back to him, “fuck off. Just stop talking to me.”
He replied again,“regardless her being terminal doesn’t mean I have to shut up and take your psychotic bullshit! Smashing the camera was completely unnecessary. Get a hold of your fucking feelings.”.
I found it amazing that he thought I was the psychopath, when the real psychopath was the person he laid his head down next to every night. I know I probably should’ve just ignored him at this point but I had enough, I just couldn’t.
I wrote back, “take my psychotic bullshit? Be a fucking MAN already and grab your balls back from your wife and address me! Don’t drag mommy into this. You just showed me how fucking heartless you are. Holy shit! You little baby. DO NOT CONTACT ME ANYMORE.”.
I pulled up to my house and came in to try and fix my mom’s iPad. My husband was out with my son getting dinner. He pulls back up to the house and he is furious. He tells me he’s going to the store to buy my brother a new camera. I told him not to bother. First off, my brother would have to prove that the camera was his, by way of receipt. Since it was supposedly a prize his wife won in a contest, I doubt she had a receipt. If they could provide a receipt then that would prove she is a liar and didn’t actually win the camera. Second, as I mentioned earlier, I have a text from him where he says he gave the camera to my mom. That means he has no recourse because the camera wasn’t his, anymore. He’d be wasting his time, plus taking off a day of work all for a $200 camera. It’s so stupid.
My husband just didn’t want the problems. He just wanted to do the right thing, which I admire. He is the ying to my yang. I was so angry with my brother at this point. He and his wife had put me and my mom through so much unnecessary bullshit in the past few weeks, and if you want to go there, the last three years. I was trying really hard to not get into it with him but I had reached my wits end. I was so done with him, his wife and their bullshit. He had really crossed a line this time. Not just one line, multiple lines. As I’ve said before, I know my brother. I know what kind of person he is. I know he learned morals and values from the same two people as I did and so I have to ask, how did he veer so far off the beaten path?
I had to fix my mom’s iPad. My husband went to Lowe’s and dropped the camera off to my brother at his house. I wished he hadn’t given in to those two idiots but I’m also happy that he just wanted to take the high road. He made my brother give him the smashed one. At least we can make our money back, and we did.