My mom died at the age of 51 from congestive heart failure on September 19, 2024. Twenty-five years of using hard drugs will do that to you.
My (then) 11-year-old brother was less than a month into his 6th grade year, just starting middle school. It was just the two of them.
Like every morning before, he got up and got himself dressed. On his way out the door, he went to kiss her goodbye and found her there in her bed.
I missed his first call. I heard it on the second ring of the second call. He was frantic. I knew as soon as he described the situation: he could not get her to wake up, she was cold and not breathing with her eyes open. I told him to walk onto the front porch.
I stayed on the line with him for the 45 minute drive to their house while my fiancé called an ambulance. My mom was long gone by the time the medics arrived. My brother has been in my care ever since. 
My easy, carefree life at the beach is gone. I had to move back to my one square mile, very red, conservative, & rural hometown. I didn’t want to completely turn my brother’s life upside down further by pulling him out of the group of kids that he has grown up with since kindergarten. Luckily, I work from home so it was feasible.
But my mom had mild hoarding tendencies, and no life insurance, and no will. Her funeral, burial, and headstone had to be financed. I couldn’t pay the mortgage and my rent at the beach apartment. So I packed all of my stuff & left the little home that I had made for five years into an already packed house.
Week after week, I have thrown away, organized, saved for family members, and donated so many things: furniture, clothes, media, mementos, and photos. It’s been a year and a half and I’m still not nearly complete.
I’ve paid a cleaning lady to help me organize once a month but it’s been such an overwhelming task. And the household income has cut in half since I initially moved in.
My fiancé left last August because the weight of her trauma was too much to bear with my new grief & responsibilities. I miss her so much as a person, but the reality is that she wasn’t a great partner. She did not do much to help with the house or my brother or any responsibilities beyond splitting bills and the occasional drop off.
About two weeks before she actually moved out, the Florida department of children and families called me. They asked if I would be willing to take custody of my 16 year-old cousin Jamie to keep him out of the system. They said they had exhausted all options and he was going to a children’s home unless they could find somewhere to put him. I agreed. This was the final straw that pushed her out the door. I don’t regret it. I think it was a blessing in disguise for both of us.
It’s been really hard to become an overnight parent to two neurodivergent teenage boys. And doing it alone has truly been a struggle.
But this is the path that I have chosen and I’m proud of my decisions and my heart. I am proud to watch them grow and to help influence them into being emotionally competent, kind, thoughtful young men. I do my best to lead with love and be the parent that I wish I would’ve had.
My Open Diary 