My mom is gone. She died peacefully 11 hours after she was taken off the morphine drip as a result of my brother’s insistence. She never woke up. I guess our collective magic worked. Or maybe it was just that her time had finally come.
I have gone back with my brother to his house to get her clothes ready and find her rosary. Tomorrow I will go and stay with friends in Albany until the funeral later this week in Yonkers, where our family is buried.
My brother will finalize the funeral arrangements. I am tired of getting into arguments with him.
I write this clumsily on my iPhone because my brother has disconnected his wifi that I use for my netbook because he doesn’t want me blogging. Well, isn’t that just too bad.
He is already harassing me about crumbs on the floor and too many lights on. I thought my mother’s death might diffuse his nastiness toward me. Wrong, again.
But I will get through this and then go home. And not come back.