“She’s dead,” he said in a numb tone. He had prepared himself for this and knew what he had to ask me to do.
I stared into the picture, now a memorial, on the folders. My vision blurred as tears rolled down my cheeks. My promises to reconnect with her were empty now.
“When did she…” I took a steadying breath, “when did this happen?”
“Two days ago, we think. The place was so full of stuff that they had to bring in a dumpster to remove the body.” His words stung so much because he didn’t understand her illness.
I wiped my tears and massaged my right temple. My sister was dying in a room and no one noticed for 48 hours.
“You’ll come clean it out so we can sell it, right?” There it was, the sentence I knew was coming.
“Please. We need you here. You’re the only one who knows how to do this. She’d want you to do it.”
I exhaled. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath.
“I’ll let you know when my flight lands.”
It was going to be my most challenging organizing project yet.
I would learn her secret in the process.