Five years it has been now, but if you ask us her caregivers when it was that Miss Brown began showing signs and symptoms of clinical depression, honestly, we don't really know.
We can tell you the incidents- those we know very well- but when exactly they occured, and where they occured, we may not quite remember.
It isn't because we are in denial. Neither is it because we don't want to, but it is because they seem to blur into a single season where we cannot define whether it was summer, autumn, or winter.
If you ask me, it felt like a very, very hot summer.
It began sometime in June of the year previous when one day Miss Brown had an appointment to go see a good doctor for the control of her cholesterol, and hours just before her appointment, she was indirectly told by her daughter that she had gotten well and so did not need to take such prescribed medicine.
By that time her daughter was no longer living with her.
Three years she had lived together in the same apartment as her and within a matter of three months she had moved out.
One day she was here, the next her room was empty and all her things were gone. The only trace left behind were that of a few clothes which her daughter had not taken with her.
And if it hadn't been hard enough to have to go home to a cold, empty house, the situation became worse.
One day she tried calling her caregiver from her mobile phone number and realized she couldn't make the call. There was a message she didn't understand. Soon she found out that the number had been cut off. The number belonged to her daughter.
Another day she went downstairs for the newspaper and there was none. Same thing for the next day, the day after, and the day after still. It took her a while to figure it out, but yes, she soon realized that the subscription had been terminated. It belonged to her daughter.
The creditor bills started to come.
First the Utilities.
Then the Management Fees.
Then, finally, six months later, in January of the Year of The Very, Very Long Summer, came the letter from the bank.
All of which had been handled by her daughter, who had been responsible for the Utilities thus far, who had paid the Management fees thus far, and had taken the loan out from the bank in her name.
It wasn't that her daughter was no longer around.
It was that her daughter had decided that she would not be responsible for these responsibilities of her mother (parents)anymore. They had the bulk of the house- they were the mortgagors- it was their responsibility, not hers alone.
Not withstanding the fact that her mother had no income.
And she was a stroke-survivor aged 76 years old.
Miss Brown was stunned beyond comprehension. Night after night after all the lights were off in the house she sat on her chair and thought endlessly of ways to make her daughter come home. Whether she was on her chair, or whether it was on her bed, her mind churned, trying to find the reason behind this whole mess, trying to find a solution, a method, any method, anyone, that would make her daughter meet up with her, or better yet, come back home.
There were very, very few ways- in fact, almost none.
There were no relatives, no cousins that could play mediator. She knew none of her daughter's friends. The only person outside the family that they both mutually knew was her daughter's boyfriend- whom had left together with her.
Is it no wonder, then, that in February, when she went to the bank's department to speak about the matter, there was nothing else on her mind but to seek the bank officer's help in bridging communication between her and her daughter?
Is it no wonder, then that she believed that everything would be well as long as she spoke with her daughter?
But her daughter refused to be found.
No sight of the girl, no communication whatsoever, absolutely nothing, and there was no one to help.
The cut-off was deliberate.
It was well planned.
How do I know?
Because the phone, the newspaper, the utility bill, the management fee bill, and everything else, could have in fact been cut off at one go. Sure, it would have made a resounding statement to her mother that she no longer cared about her nor wanted anything to do with her. And yes, it would have been a greater shock for Miss Brown to have all of this happen to her all at once.
But it would have been less torturous.
Instead, month after month after month, Miss Brown was made to find out one item after another after another being forcibly disassociated from her daughter and thrown back to her. With each item, her daughter was telling her that she no longer loved her and no longer wanted anything to do with her. If each item had represented the bond between mother and daughter, now cord after cord after cord was cut, leaving not a single thread.
And whilst it can be hard to believe, but all of this did not cause the downward spiral.
All through the months from June to February of the following year, Miss Brown continued to hold out the hope that everything was a mistake, that it was just a temper tantrum thrown by her daughter's part, that maybe if she apologized to her daughter for whatever wrongdoing she might have done, and that maybe if they could just sit and talk, her daughter would forgive her, come back, and all would be well again.
To be frank, the direct cause of the downward spiral, none of her caregivers can really remember.
It might have been the sworn declaration made by her daughter in a public forum claiming that everything of her mother's actually belonged to her, including her house, her money, and even her dowry jewelry.
It might have been the statement made in the same public declaration that her mother had abused her emotionally, and that she hated her.
No one can actually pinpoint what it was, why it was, or even when it was, but the spiral began.
Around middle February.
Year 2015.
We can tell you the incidents- those we know very well- but when exactly they occured, and where they occured, we may not quite remember.
It isn't because we are in denial. Neither is it because we don't want to, but it is because they seem to blur into a single season where we cannot define whether it was summer, autumn, or winter.
If you ask me, it felt like a very, very hot summer.
It began sometime in June of the year previous when one day Miss Brown had an appointment to go see a good doctor for the control of her cholesterol, and hours just before her appointment, she was indirectly told by her daughter that she had gotten well and so did not need to take such prescribed medicine.
By that time her daughter was no longer living with her.
Three years she had lived together in the same apartment as her and within a matter of three months she had moved out.
One day she was here, the next her room was empty and all her things were gone. The only trace left behind were that of a few clothes which her daughter had not taken with her.
And if it hadn't been hard enough to have to go home to a cold, empty house, the situation became worse.
One day she tried calling her caregiver from her mobile phone number and realized she couldn't make the call. There was a message she didn't understand. Soon she found out that the number had been cut off. The number belonged to her daughter.
Another day she went downstairs for the newspaper and there was none. Same thing for the next day, the day after, and the day after still. It took her a while to figure it out, but yes, she soon realized that the subscription had been terminated. It belonged to her daughter.
The creditor bills started to come.
First the Utilities.
Then the Management Fees.
Then, finally, six months later, in January of the Year of The Very, Very Long Summer, came the letter from the bank.
All of which had been handled by her daughter, who had been responsible for the Utilities thus far, who had paid the Management fees thus far, and had taken the loan out from the bank in her name.
It wasn't that her daughter was no longer around.
It was that her daughter had decided that she would not be responsible for these responsibilities of her mother (parents)anymore. They had the bulk of the house- they were the mortgagors- it was their responsibility, not hers alone.
Not withstanding the fact that her mother had no income.
And she was a stroke-survivor aged 76 years old.
Miss Brown was stunned beyond comprehension. Night after night after all the lights were off in the house she sat on her chair and thought endlessly of ways to make her daughter come home. Whether she was on her chair, or whether it was on her bed, her mind churned, trying to find the reason behind this whole mess, trying to find a solution, a method, any method, anyone, that would make her daughter meet up with her, or better yet, come back home.
There were very, very few ways- in fact, almost none.
There were no relatives, no cousins that could play mediator. She knew none of her daughter's friends. The only person outside the family that they both mutually knew was her daughter's boyfriend- whom had left together with her.
Is it no wonder, then, that in February, when she went to the bank's department to speak about the matter, there was nothing else on her mind but to seek the bank officer's help in bridging communication between her and her daughter?
Is it no wonder, then that she believed that everything would be well as long as she spoke with her daughter?
But her daughter refused to be found.
No sight of the girl, no communication whatsoever, absolutely nothing, and there was no one to help.
The cut-off was deliberate.
It was well planned.
How do I know?
Because the phone, the newspaper, the utility bill, the management fee bill, and everything else, could have in fact been cut off at one go. Sure, it would have made a resounding statement to her mother that she no longer cared about her nor wanted anything to do with her. And yes, it would have been a greater shock for Miss Brown to have all of this happen to her all at once.
But it would have been less torturous.
Instead, month after month after month, Miss Brown was made to find out one item after another after another being forcibly disassociated from her daughter and thrown back to her. With each item, her daughter was telling her that she no longer loved her and no longer wanted anything to do with her. If each item had represented the bond between mother and daughter, now cord after cord after cord was cut, leaving not a single thread.
And whilst it can be hard to believe, but all of this did not cause the downward spiral.
All through the months from June to February of the following year, Miss Brown continued to hold out the hope that everything was a mistake, that it was just a temper tantrum thrown by her daughter's part, that maybe if she apologized to her daughter for whatever wrongdoing she might have done, and that maybe if they could just sit and talk, her daughter would forgive her, come back, and all would be well again.
To be frank, the direct cause of the downward spiral, none of her caregivers can really remember.
It might have been the sworn declaration made by her daughter in a public forum claiming that everything of her mother's actually belonged to her, including her house, her money, and even her dowry jewelry.
It might have been the statement made in the same public declaration that her mother had abused her emotionally, and that she hated her.
No one can actually pinpoint what it was, why it was, or even when it was, but the spiral began.
Around middle February.
Year 2015.