I have to set the record straight:: it was horrible, all of it, for all of us. My father and brother met me outside as I arrived. I had been dredging it since I flew in days before. My father didn’t tell me the truth. My aunt was distraught, but my mother always brushed it off so I did as well. Foolish. They met me outside the house to prepare me for what I was about to see. Both my father and brother crumbled before for I entered the house. You see - I must convey the truth of love that was. I entered to see something that made me shake to my core. I tremble as I tried to eat while my brother looked at me blank. All of it like it never existed.
Discussion
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.
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.
