Well, watching the "vultures"(brothers)scavaging through my fathers house was almost as painful as the loss of my father itself.
You would never have known that someone had died. Their father, of all people. I saw joy on their faces. So happy with the things they were stuffing quickly into their vehicles. It made me nauseous. It was a job that needed to be done, but it didn't have to be a party. This was my Dads beloved property. His treasures. Well, they deserted me when I so badly needed help caring for Dad. Now they take joy in raiding his house.
Now I understand, people used to tell me, that things can get quite bad after someone dies in regards to property. Thats a understatement.
As I knew he would, Dad took care of me and my future. But because of this, I am now HATED, in a way no one has been hated before.
I don't understand this. I didn't write the will. I didn't care about the will. All I wanted was to keep my father with me and comfortable for as long as possible. And I would give it all back and then some to have him here with me. Don't they appreciate how I looked after their father? I am so mortified, my husband and I are seriously giving thought to moving away to start over. Anyway, one battle ends, and another begins.
Sorry to bore everyone, had to get it off my chest.
Caregiver of Thomas (my Dad,82)
Pleural epithelial meso
Our battle ended March 16, 2012. Together.