Calling my mother and brother
Dec. 16th, 2022 02:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
After I confirmed my sister’s death, I needed to tell my mother and brother.
I don’t get along with either. I try and avoid my mother. I had not spoken with my brother since our father’s memorial service 22 years ago.
But, they deserved to know my sister had died.
My sister was 14 when my mother married my father, and their relationship was always stereotypical step-mother/step-daughter like, even if I’m sure my mother would resent my saying that.
So, I dialed that phone number I haven’t used since my father died in 2000. My phone says the following call was 3 minutes long. It seemed longer.
It turns out my cousin Carolyn has not yet died, but I thought she had at the time of this call.
I’m writing down what I remember for future reference.
Ted (my brother): Hello?
Frank (me): Ted? It’s your brother Frank
Ted: Who?
Frank: Your brother Frank
Ted: Oh, Frank.
Frank: I’m calling to let you know our sister has died.
Ted: Our sister?
Frank: Anne.
Ted: Anne?
Frank: We only had one sister.
Ted: Our sister Anne.
Frank: Anne is dead.
Ted: You’re calling to tell me Anne died.
Frank: Correct. I thought you should know.
Ted: Do you want to talk to mom?
Frank: I supposed I should.
(Pause)
Ted distantly: It’s Frank. He says Anne is dead.
(The phone is switched)
My mother: Hello, who is it?
Frank: Hello, Mother. It’s your son, Frank.
MM: Who?
Frank: Your son. Frank.
MM: Oh, Frank. I didn’t recognize your voice.
Frank: I am calling to let you know that Anne died.
MM: Anne died.
Frank: Correct. Apparently she died in her apartment some time in October, but the people who found her didn’t know how to contact any of us.
MM: She died at her home?
Frank: Correct.
MM: Did someone do something to her?
Frank: They didn’t say anything like that. She was 74. I think she just died of old age. The county people didn’t give a specific reason.
MM: Anne was 74?
Frank: She was born in 1948 and it is now 2022, 74 years later.
MM: I guess she was in her 70’s. How old am I?
Frank: You’re 91.
MM: Maybe it’s for the best.
Frank: That you’re 91?
MM: Your sister. The life she lived. Maybe it’s better she died.
Frank: The coroner didn’t say anything about her life. Only that her landlord found her body.
MM: She was alone?
Frank: No one else reported it.
MM: Who else are you going to tell?
Frank: I’ve already told most of dad’s family. If you hadn’t heard, Katie died last week and I was at her funeral when I got the news about Anne. And, I heard that Carolyn has died as well.
MM: Well, that makes sense.
Frank: in what way?
MM: I hadn’t gotten Christmas cards or letters from them, so I assumed they were dead.
Frank: Well, they are. I’m going to go now. I thought you should know about Anne, and now you do. Goodbye.
Call ends
I don’t get along with either. I try and avoid my mother. I had not spoken with my brother since our father’s memorial service 22 years ago.
But, they deserved to know my sister had died.
My sister was 14 when my mother married my father, and their relationship was always stereotypical step-mother/step-daughter like, even if I’m sure my mother would resent my saying that.
So, I dialed that phone number I haven’t used since my father died in 2000. My phone says the following call was 3 minutes long. It seemed longer.
It turns out my cousin Carolyn has not yet died, but I thought she had at the time of this call.
I’m writing down what I remember for future reference.
Ted (my brother): Hello?
Frank (me): Ted? It’s your brother Frank
Ted: Who?
Frank: Your brother Frank
Ted: Oh, Frank.
Frank: I’m calling to let you know our sister has died.
Ted: Our sister?
Frank: Anne.
Ted: Anne?
Frank: We only had one sister.
Ted: Our sister Anne.
Frank: Anne is dead.
Ted: You’re calling to tell me Anne died.
Frank: Correct. I thought you should know.
Ted: Do you want to talk to mom?
Frank: I supposed I should.
(Pause)
Ted distantly: It’s Frank. He says Anne is dead.
(The phone is switched)
My mother: Hello, who is it?
Frank: Hello, Mother. It’s your son, Frank.
MM: Who?
Frank: Your son. Frank.
MM: Oh, Frank. I didn’t recognize your voice.
Frank: I am calling to let you know that Anne died.
MM: Anne died.
Frank: Correct. Apparently she died in her apartment some time in October, but the people who found her didn’t know how to contact any of us.
MM: She died at her home?
Frank: Correct.
MM: Did someone do something to her?
Frank: They didn’t say anything like that. She was 74. I think she just died of old age. The county people didn’t give a specific reason.
MM: Anne was 74?
Frank: She was born in 1948 and it is now 2022, 74 years later.
MM: I guess she was in her 70’s. How old am I?
Frank: You’re 91.
MM: Maybe it’s for the best.
Frank: That you’re 91?
MM: Your sister. The life she lived. Maybe it’s better she died.
Frank: The coroner didn’t say anything about her life. Only that her landlord found her body.
MM: She was alone?
Frank: No one else reported it.
MM: Who else are you going to tell?
Frank: I’ve already told most of dad’s family. If you hadn’t heard, Katie died last week and I was at her funeral when I got the news about Anne. And, I heard that Carolyn has died as well.
MM: Well, that makes sense.
Frank: in what way?
MM: I hadn’t gotten Christmas cards or letters from them, so I assumed they were dead.
Frank: Well, they are. I’m going to go now. I thought you should know about Anne, and now you do. Goodbye.
Call ends
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