After mother died, I was devasted. The thought of not hearing her voice, or planning her next visit to Atlanta was too much. How could this be, I waited a lifetime to have this relationship with mother and now she's gone. Everyone was calling but I didn't want to talk. I was sad and angry. Why was she dead facedown on the floor? Was she scared, cold, lonely? My emotions were everywhere. After finding out, I took a moment to myself. It felt like a dream. I called my boss to let them know and to request a couple of weeks off. I needed time to help round-up mother's affairs.
I stayed with another brother whose home was a good distance from the rest of the family, and we would later connect with my other siblings at the location where she had died. As we walked into this sizeable four-bedroom home with a basement and pool, I asked where mother's room was. I wanted to imagine her last moments. We were guided to a room separate from the others. It appeared to be the size of a broom closet with enough space for a twin bed. It was uncomfortably small for a grown ailing woman, but at least she was no longer in the shelter...right?
My sisters and I entered the room. We cried as we touched everything. Her hats, clothes, pillows. We sat on her bed hoping to feel a part of her. It was cold and her warm spirit was not there. Mother was free, and I was ready to leave. We were offered a tour of the house, but we declined. We were not there for that. So we gathered in the kitchen, swapped stories, and eventually continued to the storage where my mother kept the remaining of her belongings.
I was later told a few more details about this nice four-bedroom home with a basement and pool. To secure the purchase of this house, a bank was robbed. It is wild to hear the extreme measures that were taken to build an image of success, progress, and family. However, when family needed them the most, they offered her a broom closet and a can of food.
S
brandedapptestuser@gmail.com