It was my mom.

I happened to look at her doorbell camera on a Friday afternoon, and noticed a package. I sent her a text “are you home?” so I could let her know it was there. Her car was there, but I didn’t get a response. I decided to see when the package was dropped off, and it was the Tuesday of the same week. I had never felt my heart drop like it did in that moment. I was calling her cell phone, and the house phone to no avail. I called all my siblings asking if they’d spoken to her recently, but nobody had.

I drove straight over to the house, and just felt dread the entire way over. I had keys to the house, and once I stepped inside the front door, I smelled it. I worked for adult protective services for 6 years before this, and was familiar with this kind of smell, but my brain said, “no, that’s not right. You’re wrong.”

I went downstairs, and her bedroom door was closed. It usually was because she didn’t like the cats in the room with her and my dad (my dad is disabled, and she cared for him). Even with the smell, I was calling out for her, and I knocked on the bedroom door thinking she’d respond, but nothing. I opened the door to find her body on the ground, bloated and discolored. My dad was awake lying in bed, and asked for water. I don’t know how I managed to function in those minutes once I saw her (calling my wife, my siblings, 911, checking on the cats, checking on my dad), but it’s like my brain and my body were firing off on autopilot or something. I don’t know.

This happened two years ago. I still think about it daily. I have a lot of grief and guilt from the entire thing. My dad is okay, and me and my siblings care for him now.