After My Father Went to Heaven, My Brother Expected Me to Take Care of Everything Without Question—H…

After my father passed away, my brother decided that I should take care of everything, without asking questions. After the funeral, he placed the flat keys in front of me on the kitchen table. Mum sat quietly on the sofa. I was clutching the folder with all the paperwork, feeling bewildered at how Id suddenly become the person expected to make all the decisions.

Dad departed suddenly, with no time for discussions, arrangements or sharing out responsibilities. My brother lives in the same city, but he has always claimed his job is very demanding. I work at an accountancy firm myself, and have deadlines to meet, but somehow that seemed irrelevant.

By the third day, my brother said I was more organised and calm, and that handling paperwork fell naturally to me. I began running round government offices and agencies, lugging copies and originals and certificates, queuing endlessly with a numbered ticket in my hand.

My brother only called to check if everything was in order. Rarely did he come along. Mum would break down in tears in the evenings, as I sorted through Dads wardrobe. I folded his shirts one by one and packed them away in boxes.

My brother insisted he couldnt bear to step into Dads room. He said it was too much for him. I too would come home at night, sitting in the dark, but the next morning, Id get up and carry on.

Eventually, the question of Dads flat arose. My brother suggested selling it so it wouldnt be a burden to anyone. I asked where Mum would live. He replied she should move in with me since my house is larger.

Mum stayed silent, her gaze fixed on the floor. That was when I realised hed made his decision without consulting anyone.

When we gathered to discuss the details, my brother spoke about prices, estate agents, and timetables. I talked about how our mother wakes in the night still searching for Dad.

He sighed and said, We must be practical.

That word echoed in my mind.

I am practical. I pay my bills on time. I budget methodically. But I couldnt accept that Mum was being treated as just another item on the balance sheet.

A few days later my brother brought round a brokers contract and placed it on the kitchen table, offering me a pen. I asked whether hed spoken with Mum. He said she didnt have the strength for such matters.

I looked at Mum. She gripped the tablecloth tightly.

I slid the contract back towards my brother and told him I wouldnt sign until Mum had a chance to say what she wanted. He became annoyed, muttering that I always make things more complicated.

I didnt raise my voice. I simply repeatedthis is Dads, and Mums, home.

After that night, my brother stopped phoning daily. He resorted to terse texts about bills and deadlines.

Mum is staying with me for now. Each morning, I make coffee and set her cup beside mine. She sits for ages, staring out of the window.

Dads flat still hasnt been sold. I continue paying the electricity and water bills so nothing gets switched off.

I sometimes wonder if my brother sees me as his sister, or merely as someone meant to shoulder his responsibilities.

I dont want to quarrel with him, nor do I wish to betray Mum.

I stand in-betweenholding the folder of documents and feeling that, if I say nothing, everything will be decided without me.

Is it right to hold up the sale, even if it causes tension between my brother and me?

Today, I learnt that being practical does not mean forgetting the people we love. Sometimes, the most important choices are those that honour their feelings above our own convenience.