My mother was half the body I had just seen 2 months prior. I had taken a job to be able to fly home to see them every month and it was as if it was gone. I couldn’t speak. I had no idea what to do. We sat together. We tried to laugh. It scared me to death. I awoke the next day and she still was hanging on. With me home, my father and brother tried to take care of things since I was home with mother. In that space, my father came home - not my brother - and in that time frame she passed. My brother was not present. I had advised my father to message my brother to come home pronto. That he would understand. He still missed his window to say goodbye. I believe to this day he hates me for it.
Discussion
Flash forward ~ my brother tired to strangle me to death months later and then I escaped to isolation and now apparently the Banksy collective thinks they can siphon off me until they kill me.
