After my father passed away, my brother decided that I should handle everything, without question.
After the funeral, my brother placed the keys to Dads flat on the table in front of me. Mum sat quietly on the sofa, saying nothing. I was holding the folder with all the papers, wondering when I had become the one expected to make all the decisions.
Dad left us unexpectedly. There hadnt been time for discussions, agreements, or dividing responsibilities.
My brother lives in the same town, but always mentions how stressful his job is. I work at an accounting firm, so I have deadlines too, but somehow that never seemed to matter.
By the third day, my brother told me I was more organised and calm, and that sorting documents came naturally to me.
So I began visiting offices, carrying copies, originals, certificateswaiting in queues, ticket in hand.
My brother only called to ask if things were going smoothly. Rarely did he accompany me.
Mum would cry in the evenings as I sorted Dads wardrobe. I folded his shirts one by one and packed them carefully away in boxes.
My brother said he couldnt stand to enter Dads room, that it weighed too heavily on him.
I, too, would sit in the darkness of my own home at night. But come morning, Id get up and carry on.
Eventually, it was time to decide what to do with Dads flat. My brother said it would be best to sell, so it wouldnt become a burden to anyone.
I asked where Mum would live. My brother said she could move in with me, since I have more space.
Mum said nothing, just stared at the floor.
At that moment, I realised my brother had already made his decisionwithout asking anyone.
When we gathered to talk over the details, my brother chatted about prices, estate agents, deadlines. I spoke of how Mum wakes at night, reaching for Dad.
He sighed and said, We need to be practical.
That word rang in my head.
I am practical. I pay my bills on time. I plan my budget. But I couldnt accept Mum being reduced to just another item to account for.
A few days later, my brother brought over an agency contract. He placed it on the kitchen table and handed me a pen.
I asked if hed spoken to Mum about it. He said Mum wasnt strong enough to deal with these things.
I looked at Mum. She was gripping the edge of the tablecloth tightly.
I pushed the contract back to my brother.
I said I wouldnt sign anything until Mum said what she wanted. My brother was annoyed. He told me I always complicated matters.
I didnt raise my voice. I simply repeated that this was Dads and Mums home.
After that evening, my brother stopped calling every day. Now he communicated through brief texts about bills and deadlines.
Mum is staying with me at the moment. In the mornings, I make coffee and set a cup down for her. She sits for ages, gazing out of the window.
Dads flat hasnt been sold yet. I keep paying for the electric and water to prevent anything from being shut off.
Sometimes I wonder whether my brother sees me as his sister or simply as the person expected to carry the load for him.
I dont want to argue with my brother. But I also wont abandon Mum.
Between them, here I amwith a folder of documents and the feeling that if I stay silent, everything will be decided without me.
I wonder, am I right to hold up the sale, even though it causes tension between my brother and me?
