I am happy without toxic people in my life....

“There’s folks you just don’t need. You’re better off without ‘em. Your life is just a little better because they ain’t in it.” ― William Gay

Well, here we are on January 3, 2017, nearly 72 hours into the New Year. I can’t say that I’m unhappy that 2016 is over; last year had its good days, of course, but overall it sucked. The Presidential election here in the States was one of the weirdest and least satisfactory in the nation’s history, lots of beloved celebrities died, and Islamic terrorist attacks here and elsewhere widened the chasm between the West and the Muslim world.

On a personal level, 2016 was one of the toughest years I’ve ever lived through. It was the first year since Mom’s death and, of course, it marked my first year as a homeowner. I was used to running my household way before Mom passed away; she handed me the reins, so to speak, when she became seriously ill in 2010, so I was used to making decisions and paying bills on time already. It was a tough and sometimes unforgiving learning process, but I think I’ve done a good job as a homeowner.

On the whole, however, I could have done without all the negative aspects of losing a parent and dealing with my toxic and Machiavellian half-sister.

Losing Mom the way that I did – watching her physical and mental health deteriorate literally before my eyes over a five-year period – was an extremely painful experience. My mind still reels from memories of the seemingly endless days I spent caring for Mom in her small and cramped sickroom in the first floor of my two-story townhouse. Sure, the state of Florida provided home health aides, and Easter Seals sent respite aides to watch Mom while I went to run errands or (on rare occasions) went on dates or watched a movie with friends at a nearby theater. And of course, my half-sister Vicky helped; Mom was her parent, too.

 But by and large I did most of the heavy lifting when it came to caring for my mother. After all, I lived in the same house, so it made sense for me to be Mom’s primary caregiver. Also, my half-sister was still working in 2010, the year that Mom became physically incapacitated. She was a nurse at one of the worst hospitals in South Florida (Metropolitan Hospital), so even if I had wanted Vicky to take charge of Mom’s care, she would have had to retire early.

I’m not going to delve into the difficulties I had to overcome from June 1, 2010 till July 19, 2015 here.  Suffice it to say, though, that instead of being a positive force in my (and Mom’s) life during those 61 months, Vicky was often a cross to bear. She was abrasive, aggressive, domineering, and downright shady. Worse – in my opinion – she plotted to get her hands on my mom’s house, sell it, and have me placed in a facility for disabled persons.

Back in 2001, Vicky somehow convinced my mother to accompany her to an attorney’s office near her apartment in Westchester. The reason: Vicky wanted Mom to make out a last will and testament that, on the surface, was a fair division of Mom’s property and assets between us. In reality, though, the 2001 will benefited Vicky more. (She wanted Mom’s car, all her furniture, most of the expensive heirlooms, as well as half the house.)  I was, of course, not invited to participate. Mom, in a moment of weakness, agreed to this and signed off on this Vicky-centric last will and testament.

Luckily, Mom had the foresight to correct this by making out a new will in 2010 that overrode the one that had favored my older half-sister. We kept it under wraps till 2014, when Mom told Vicky to forget about trying to take over the house after Mom’s passing because a new will existed. Vicky was furious, and I strongly suspect that she didn’t believe a new will existed. That’s why she filed a “lost or destroyed will” petition in the probate division of Miami Dade’s 11^th Judicial District Circuit Court. 

She was extremely confident that she would win – even though her attorney told her it was unlikely that she would prevail once I had legal counsel and proved at a court hearing in July that there was a legally binding will that basically disinherited Vicky. So when she lost, she was so angry that her face was contorted and flushed to a dark shade of red.

"Don't call or text me again," she hissed at me, then made a melodramatic turn and stormed out of the antechamber at the courthouse.