The Death of a Person is Sad and Painful for the Left Behind
It is even more painful and sad when you learn of the death of a person as a direct relative through the village’s rumor mill.
My mother died on Saturday. She had been fighting with bowel cancer for years, and as her son, I saw it as my duty to be there for her. That often meant being with her in the hospital in the middle of the night when she had seizures, cooking for her, washing, cleaning. This was taken away from me by my uncle, who cut off my rights with the help of his “mates in uniform,” which even went so far as to threaten me with a compulsory enforcement measure and throw me out of my parents’ house.
Well, I just bought a new house.
Although the last four years were anything but easy, especially regarding my mother, whom I couldn’t see for two years due to an order, I still find it sickening that neither of my mother’s brothers had the guts to tell me personally that she had died. Well, lying is just modern.
Of course, there were rumors about her health condition, how she was doing, but for me, they were just rumors. I wasn’t allowed to visit, call, etc.
After the first condolences came in via WhatsApp on Sunday evening, I called the nursing home on Tuesday morning, where she was supposed to go on the advice of her brother (I would have continued to care for her at home, as all other deceased family members also did), to confirm her death.
Whether she left this world peacefully or not, I don’t know. However, I assume I won’t be given the opportunity for a final farewell, as I won’t find out where and when my mother will be buried. All I can think is: No guts. I’ll keep the rest to myself.
Despite everything that happened: Rest in peace.
UPDATE
I need to correct my statement above regarding the funeral. Thanks to my cousin, I now know when and where the funeral is.
As expected, I’m not happy about it. Well, the family of my mother also didn’t want to inform me.
Thank you for the information.
