"I‘m sorry, Amelia, I‘m sorry for not being a better mother. I‘m sorry I put you... "No, no, Ma. You have been wonderful. You always tried to make sure we had all we needed when we were children. I love you."
"Hello, Amelia, it‘s me, Michele." Her voice was surprisingly gentle. "Ma‘s exhausted. She needs to rest now."
"Yes, yes," I sobbed. "Michele, I want you to promise me, promise me that you will have Ma resuscitated, if something happens before we get there."
After Michele hung up, I managed to stop crying. I was angry for leaving Ma at the end of the summer. She didn‘t want me to go, but I had to get Abbey back home and settled into school. Ma didn‘t like the idea of Abbey going to public school at all.
"You won‘t have the freedom to move around anytime you feel like it, Amelia. Abbey will have to show up for school everyday," she said.
"I know what you mean, Ma, but don‘t worry for a minute. When I need to be here for you, Abbey will have to stay with one of our friends."
We arrived in Massachusetts on October 3rd and went directly to the hospital. I was so relieved to see Ma again. She was doing a little better, surprising her doctor. For the next seven days we went to visit her everyday. I rubbed her back, brushed her hair, and all of us took turns feeding her. She loved ice-cream and custard. Abbey and Lucas were great with her. They loved their Nana, and she adored them. I began to hope that she was going to be okay, although, she still had trouble speaking.
I gave her a manicure and joked that she owed me $80 because I was the best and she got the best. She laughed when I said, "Since you are my mother, I‘ll only charge you $75.
As much as I wanted to stay with her all day and through the night, it was impossible. The children had to be cared for, and they needed a place to stay where there were no germs, and where they could get a good night‘s sleep. Michele was with her most of the time, anyway.
On October the 10th she was released from the hospital. It was wonderful to see her back home, in the car alongside me and then in her own bed. She was amazing.
"You should get back to California now, Amelia," she said. "I‘ll be fine, and Michele is here to take care of me."
I hugged and kissed her and tried not to cry. It was with a great deal of reluctance that the children and I left two days later.
Michele called me at 10:30PM on October the 16th to tell me Ma was gone.
The trip home to Massachusetts was awful. I had a fever, a temperature of 104. On the plane from San Francisco to Denver I sniffled, sneezed, coughed and cried. Lucas was my bright spot being ever so gentle and telling me not to cry. After a short layover in Denver, we left for Boston. Lucas and I were playing and talking, but my mind kept going back to the fact that Ma was gone. I was never going to see her again. I couldn‘t fathom that she had really died! Perhaps it is something we all do with the loss of those we love, denial?
Finally, we landed 'back home.‘ No, I knew that I would never again refer to Boston as 'back home‘. In fact, I felt that with Ma gone it was possible that I wouldn‘t return to Boston ever again. There was no point. 'Back home‘ was now in California with my husband and children.
The cab pulled up in the parking lot outside the entrance to Ma‘s apartment complex. Despite the children being with me, and Jack soon to join us from Connecticut, I felt very alone and so sad. I stared at the front door; memories flooded my mind. One of my favorite things to do with her was to call when Lucas said something cute, or when Abbey had a flawless dance recital. We had this tradition where every Christmas Eve we would talk for hours while I wrapped presents.
Michele opened the front door. I jumped out of the car, tears once again beginning to roll down my cheeks. We held each other, sobbing.
"I‘m glad you‘re back, Amelia," she said. "Ma wanted to go. She was comfortable and ready. I never saw her looking so peaceful. I‘m sorry you weren‘t here."
"You know what, Michele? I‘m grateful I was able to be here with her five short days ago. C‘mon, let‘s go inside." Actually, I wasn‘t feeling particularly brave about going into Ma‘s house. There was a lot of stuff to go through, a lot of memories that would come up, some of them joyful, many of them painful. Michele led the way. My phone rang. It was Adam.
"Go ahead, Michele. Children, go with Auntie Chele." I waited until they were inside. "When did you do it?"
"What?"
"Clean out Ma‘s bank account? You must have done it before she died. Where is your shame, Adam?"
"I‘m the executor of her will. I‘m in charge, Amelia, of all her possessions." "Good, then you will have the money to pay for the funeral expenses."
"I heard you are at Ma‘s. don‘t touch anything until I get there."
"Take a dump, Adam. I‘ll do what I like," I said and then flipped the cell lid closed. What a creep, I thought, not a mention of Ma‘s death, or even hint of sadness in his voice. What the hell, Adam‘s behaviors no longer surprised me. All I could do was pray for his soul. Little did I know of more dirty dealings yet to come?
I walked inside Ma‘s apartment. Immediately, I could smell and feel her presence. I was in a kind of fog for the first couple of hours. Michele and I were looking at each other trying to figure out where to start. That was soon taken care of when Margaret arrived with four of her children. I was happy, though, that Abbey and Lucas would have the two younger cousins to play with.
Margaret and I embraced and then immediately, and I mean immediately, she and two of her daughters started going through everything; they seemed to be in and out of every room all at once. I was stunned by the swiftness of it all. It was surreal, almost as if what was happening had been rehearsed. We were all talking over each other and at times arguing; we wanted to do different things. I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Margaret and the girls worked faster and harder than movers on a million dollar incentive! As far as I was concerned, she was welcome to anything she wanted, which was mostly furniture, so long as I got to check inside each piece to make sure there was nothing precious to me or my children in any of the drawers.
I recovered cards, letters, pictures and things personal that I had sent Ma over the years. In one incident my two nieces were dragging out a large chest. I stopped them and said that I would like to look in it.
"It‘s all Adam‘s stuff, boy scout stuff and such," Margaret answered when Sandra looked to her mother for guidance.
"Let me look," I said, suddenly alert. Surprise, surprise, there was nothing of Adam‘s. But, old school records of mine and some of Ma‘s doll collection. I didn‘t see one boy scout item. I shrugged, disgusted, and closed the lid. "It‘s all yours."
Something felt very strange to me. A picture of Adam and Margaret conversing surreptitiously flashed into my mind. What the hell, I thought. Is Margaret selling me out? I better watch her.
Actually, I was angry that both my oldest nieces were even there. One of them lived 45 minutes from Ma, and Sally was only a two hour drive away. Neither of them had ever taken the time to visit Ma when she was alive. Sally had an absolutely adorable two-year old boy that Ma, who loved children, was very disappointed about having never met. Yet, it was hardly a day after Ma‘s passing that they were at her apartment ransacking her possessions! I‘m reminded of the breaking news stories on television of disasters where looters arrive quickly on the scene to pick through the victims possessions before their blood has hardly had time to cool. With family members behaving with what seemed to me a similar mindset, the disappointment and heartache over Ma‘s death was even more pronounced. I checked everything they took out after that.
Another trunk was full of knitted and crocheted items. Ma‘s work was extraordinary. I had told her many times that she could make a good living doing it professionally. I closed the trunk and let it pass. What was the point of creating a fuss when these people were so desperate to take everything? Anyway, I was thrilled that my children and I had at least a dozen Afghans, blankets and dolls at home in California, which Ma made especially for us.
After a lot of stress and squabbling, we finally called it a day. Abbey, Lucas and I prepared to leave after Margaret, a little after midnight. As Michele walked with us to the car, my phone went off again. Being so late, I thought it was probably Jack, but the voice on the other end was not that of my husband.
"Hello, Mrs. Bradford?"
"Yes."
"Mrs. Amelia, this is Doug Mahoney. I am the funeral director at Mahoney and Patrick. I‘m sorry to be calling you at this unseemly hour, but we had a phone call from your brother, Adam Allerton. He said he was the executor of your mother‘s affairs."
"Oh, really? I haven‘t seen any documentation to that effect."
"Well, it is what he claims, and we are not in a position to ignore him. I have to tell you that he was infuriated that your mother‘s body was removed from the hospital and already embalmed, without instructions from him. I‘m calling you because I have a note in our files that you were paying the funeral costs."
"Yes," I said, "that‘s right, but I didn‘t leave any instructions. Just a minute please, Mr. Mahoney." I explained to Michele what had happened.
"I certainly didn‘t give any instructions. It might have been Frank," said Michele. Frank, my cousin, was a friend of Doug Mahoney. Doug was very nice, and he went on to say that there seemed to be some miscommunication and that since there was a mix-up Mahoney Patrick would not be charging us anything.
The mix up didn‘t bother me because we wanted Ma to be viewed. I certainly wanted to see her one last time. Anyway, Adam had managed to create another full blown mess, and I was now going to have to deal with him. It would be nasty, I knew that. I arranged with Doug that Michele and I would meet with him in the morning.
The children and I left Michele and went to spend the night at Billy‘s house. I got very little sleep. I missed Ma, and here I was putting up with Adam‘s crap again when this terribly sad time ought to have been an occasion for bringing us all together. I was also concerned about how Abbey and Lucas would react at seeing their Nana dead.
The next day was Sunday, and the early morning meeting with Doug did not accomplish much. He explained that his hands were tied because of Adam‘s claim that he was the executor, and the fact that none of us had seen any supporting documentation made no difference.
"I can‘t tell you much at this stage," Doug said. "Your brother has instructed me that he would be arriving either tomorrow or Tuesday, and he would make the final arrangements then."
That was Adam being as controlling as he could, keeping everyone waiting until the last minute. It was very chaotic and upsetting. I couldn‘t tell anyone anything, I had no information. We were captive to my brother‘s whims.
We went back to Ma‘s apartment. Margaret was there waiting with her two younger girls, which I was happy about for Abbey and Lucas‘s sake. I had a phone call from one of Mahoney Patrick‘s funeral director‘s saying that Adam had called and told them he would be arriving at their parlor at three in the afternoon. My heart started beating a little faster with anxiety at the thought of seeing him again. But, I had no idea of how much crap was coming my way.
"I will bring my two sisters‘ with me," I told him.
"Respectfully, Amelia," the assistant said, "Mr. Allerton has requested he meet with us on his own."
"He did, did he? Then you can tell Mr. Allerton that he will be responsible for the payment of any of your company‘s charges." Then I remembered there would be no cost anyway.
"The bastard!" I shouted. "How dare he!" I was stunned and pissed at the same time. Margaret seemed unfazed. Michele looked angry, but said nothing. What was it with these women? It did occur to me that they had not had a lot of contact with our mother over the years, was that it? I decided to hold my own counsel and went on about sorting what was left of Ma‘s possessions.
I had most of what I had wanted or needed by the time we started to clean out her closets. We put the stuff into separate piles to give to goodwill, hospitals, churches and other needy institutions. It was a tough task, her whole life was staring me in the face. The emotional side of me wanted to take everything home; it was painful to let it all go. I got through it. The children had fun doing dumpster runs.
As I was closing the closet doors, I heard a commotion in the front room. I could hear the children coming in through the front door. I went into the room, and there was Adam with a police officer at his side! I honestly can‘t remember what I was thinking. I knew, of course, that the officer was there to head off any trouble; in fact, I was relieved to see him. I know I didn‘t even say hello to Adam. I felt like we were supposed to hug, but there was nothing left between us.
The police officer asked to see me and Michele in the hall way. "Which one of