48 End of our Mother’s Life. Photo: Quail Creek Sunday. Song: “Sound of Silence”.

I learned about our mother planning on dying in her own house, on the night in which an ambulance arrived, and took her away against her will. The XL Care Administrator, and her entourage of mostly men, arrived unannounced at the house (explained below).

Earlier that same day, my mother broke down crying hysterically in the hallway. I happened to be walking down the hall heading to my room when I heard her crying a long wailing type of cry like I had never heard her cry in my life. She appeared devastated, and at her wits end while she was standing around the end of the hallway closely by our huge commercial quality Xerox machine which my sister had just faxed my health records from. My brother had illegally removed my personal, and private, locked, 30 year old health documents from out of my file cabinet, and was threatening his mother to use them to have me adjudicated incompetent, with the help of an unscrupulous professional paralegal secretary (now lawyer) who gave her word to my mother that I would receive the bank account I earned from my mother, then broke it to pursue stealing it, and obviously gave both siblings the okay to maliciously spread their lies about me to neighbors, hospital staff, the XL Care Administrator, and staff at my mother’s third skilled nursing facility, saying that I am incompetent. By the time I had accidentally discovered my mother crying in our hallway, we both knew that it was too late to do anything about them stealing what I had earned from working at the house for my mother for over a decade, or receiving everything my father had promised that I would receive working for much of my adult life earning. When she stopped crying, she looked sadly into my eyes as if she felt deeply sorry for me. Then, as she regained her composure, told me that she had thought seriously about it, and has made a decision. She sternly told me that she was ready to die, was resolved to die, and wanted for me to please just let her go.

That night, I heard my mother arguing from her bedroom on the phone with my brother, who had called for the second time in the last half hour. It had become obvious to me that my brother had been making his calls with his threats and demands after he learned from me the times I had finally started playing tennis regularly, because each time I returned home, I realized that those were the times that my mother’s eyes had been full of tears. At first, I thought it was because of the loss of our father, but I learned that both of my siblings were involved in slander, and were both conspiring against me. On this night, I heard my mother loudly announcing to my brother, “Michael, I will die wherever I want to die”, and soon after obviously hanging up on him, my mother came out to emphatically announce to me, “Douglas, I am going to bed”, and went back to her bedroom, and closed the door without adding a goodnight.

Later into that evening, a caravan of cars, unbeknownst to me, had parked near the end of our driveway by the street. I didn’t see, nor hear, an ambulance which also arrived after all of the cars did. Then, all at once, nearly a dozen people stormed into our mother’s house unannounced, and without knocking or ringing! I thought, “Why did Jenny, the security gate guard, not call ahead as she always had”? Were they ALL the XL Care staff? I’ll never know. All I know, is that I was astonished when all of these unknown people entered after dark without knocking or ringing the bell, and one authoritatively asked me where my mother was, then told me that they were told that I wasn’t supposed to even be there. I knew that I had just recently been ignored at the third skilled nursing facility where my mother was moved without anyone notifying me, but now I was being ignored in my own home by all of these people who walked into the house ignoring both my, and my mother’s, rights. They crowded into the master bedroom where my mom was sound asleep, and placed themselves and their stretcher to physically separate me from being able to enter the bedroom. I later noticed that our mother’s night pills were scattered on the carpet beside her bed. They asked her about her being malnourished, and she was completely bewildered asking them why they would ever even think such a thing. Then, while in the hallway, taking her out on the stretcher, I heard my mother emphatically explain that I had been taking good care of her. Regardless, they took her out on that stretcher, and loaded her into an ambulance against both of our objections! The EMT was insisting that she be taken all of the way to NCH, as opposed to the very nearby Physicians Regional hospital where I was explaining to him was where she had just been, and was where her doctors were. And, when I asked to ride with her, I was told no, and he strapped our mother’s head down more tightly on the gurney while rudely telling me that I couldn’t ride in the ambulance. So, I drove separately to Physicians Regional. The ambulance driver cracked our main sprinkler matrix driving off the driveway around all of the cars, but because it was obviously an accident, I fixed it all, myself. However, I find it hard to forgive whoever it was causing my mother excruciating head pain which she immediately commented to me about upon her arrival at the hospital saying, “Oh Douggie, the pain, the pain”. Our mother was returned to the house on the very next morning, but the abuse toward me, and my mother escalated.

Around the time that my illegally stolen, personal, and private health records were being used against me to take away my rights as my mother’s executor, they were, also, attempting to use them, illegally, towards adjudicating me incompetent. That was at that same time when I was playing piano at Quail Creek (see photo at the top of this page). I played very quiet, appropriate Sunday music.

My original website morphed from a musical site into a story site with pictures & 50 pages of stories.

My father prohibited me from using our clubhouse facilities while he was alive, but it was probably both parents’ intensions (definitely our mother’s) to let all three of their children use the clubhouse, and golf course, after my father died. After joining Quail Creek in 1987, he quit in 2001, then died in 2003. By the time our father died, our house extension was completed with added living facilities to our home, and our parents installed brand new golf cart batteries. After our father died, our mother encouraged all three of us to all start enjoying visiting and staying together as a family, again, while fixing up the house to sell it for what it was worth when the time came. I didn’t ask, or say a word about it, but our mother wrote me out a $50K golf membership check, and told me to write out a $5K check from the same #4900 “house” account co-owned with my mother since the 1960’s, to my sister, for her “trust” to, supposedly, protect my rights receiving what I co-owned with my mother. Our mother had explained to all three of her children during HER family meeting which she called together after our father had died, that it was my job to sell the house. But, it soon became apparent, as if my brother didn’t even want our mother recuperating from her operations. It was when I started sensing that he was focussed on her dying, and in a timely manner, rather than being focussed on her recuperating.

My brother had obviously changed his views on death, when changing his religion to Judaism, because he pompously, and audaciously, expressed his religious view regarding how his mother should accept dying as soon as possible. The way in which he rudely excused himself for saying that out-loud, was by saying that Jews simply see death differently. Neither I, nor my mother, was buying it. In fact, my mother was ASTOUNDED with my brother audaciously expressing his religious view regarding our mother’s quickened demise. After my brother pompously stated his “alternative” view on our mother’s “recuperation”, she obviously decided to accommodate him, AND SHE DID SO after he wouldn’t stop yelling at her in the ICU, by becoming unresponsive.

Our mother told me that she thought that my siblings would be ecstatic about us all being able to use the club facilities together during any/all of my siblings’ visits, but neither sibling was interested, obviously because unbeknownst to my mother and me, they were already deep into their throes of stealing my inheritance while my mother was recuperating from her surgery, and less than three months later, our mother (supposedly) died. However, I believe that our mother lived well past her official recorded date of death. Perhaps they can allow that to happen because she was an organ donor? I believe that was the case, because I don’t believe that they would have killed our 83 year old mother for her organs, like they did in the movie “Coma”. I believe that she was as livid as she ever was when she chose to become unresponsive, and it was due to my brother’s yelling at her in the ICU. My brother was being inexcusably obnoxious. So, I was, and still am 100% sure that she didn’t die when they called in the next few hours, on the very next morning, and announced that she had died. This was only hours after my brother was yelling at her in the ICU, and when in response, our mother chose to become “unresponsive”. I know that she was NOT “unresponsive “, because of how loudly she said “goodBYE” to me the next morning as I left her hospital room, followed by them calling only hours later, and pronouncing her dead.

I clearly saw our mother months after we were informed that she (supposedly) died! It was well beyond our mother’s official DOD. I was sitting higher than street level in between the Areca Palms I planted in the front yard, and working hard digging a large hole all day close to the street, making what would become the first of several fountains 1: Seal fountain 2: Frog fountain 3: Lion fountain, and 4: Bird fountain. While sitting in my front yard, I plainly saw my mother drive by as a passenger in a car with a big nurse driving. She looked straight at me with her reassuring-like life long loving smile. Then, she leaned her head back while closing her eyes as she did a “drive by”, which told me that she was alright, well, and happy, knowing that I finally had a home of my own. She was wearing the same nightgown that she had worn her whole life, which was the only thing that she had in her isolation room which they moved her to from the ICU, after pronouncing her dead. Eventually, I believe that she was able to realize that I married my girlfriend, because after I knew that she was still alive (like I learned Lisa was, too), once every year for many years in a row, my mother may have been able to hear me, albeit a one way conversation. In fact, my wife and I started looking forward to answering the phone when it was from a number labeled “unknown”. It was always the same Spanish speaking lady simply saying, “Maria?”, followed by several moments of complete silence, while my wife and I could talk, and did. This was great if it really was mom who was able to listen. Or, was it just someone simply wanting to hear my wife and/or me talking? I knew that my mother would have wanted to hear that I married my girlfriend, and during the silence hold time of those yearly calls we received, my wife and I always talked to the silent other end, about general things that we thought my mother would have wanted to hear about. We speculated that the repeated yearly call from that same familiar Spanish lady’s voice always asking for “Maria”, could have been who had been caring for my mother, still living in a skilled nursing facility somewhere. In fact, we were both so sure that she was still alive, we went looking for her in all of the Naples skilled nursing facilities, and some in Ft. Myers. We were so sure that we were going to find her, and we only stopped because of covid. Then, on the last of those once a year calls we received, the way in which that same familiar lady’s voice said, “Maria?” sounded more like a statement than a question. It was as if she was asserting something negative, as if there was something seriously wrong. It sounded as if she may have been telling us, in her limited one spoken word, that mom had become very sick. Unfortunately, that was the last “Maria” call that we ever received, and since it was toward the end of Covid around that time, my wife and I think that our mother actually died of Covid. All I know for sure, is that our mother did not die when she chose being unresponsive in 2003, and that our mother was a selfless mother.

My brother orchestrated selling the house, himself, ignoring the fact that our mother had assigned me to be the one in charge of selling it, and fixing it up. Again, my rights were denied, and immediately after our mother died, an Ad Litem administrator was appointed which replaced my duties of selling the house as executor, the house was sold to the very first bidder for $350,000.00 less than the MARKET VALUE of the house, with no counter offer, and I was issued what amounted to an eviction notice when my bank account was purged, and I had no money, and nowhere to go, but was lucky to be able to stay in the guest room of my lawyer friend’s secretary’s house (explained).

My two year older brother had chosen a realtor on his own named Tiffany McQuaid. She was/is a realtor from Naples whose husband I knew had owned Sunoco stations in Ohio. I know that only because I met him at one of the gas station he owned in the 1960’s between Newton Falls, and Ravenna, Ohio. I wonder, now, if my brother knew, too, about the McQuaid’s owning real estate in Ohio, and if he negotiated the sale of our mother’s house for $350K less than the market value, so as to be able to get a better deal on his third house in Cleveland’s exclusive Bratenahl area. Or, could he have accomplished all of that while on a substitute teacher’s salary at that time?

A day after our mother died in Naples, and after I witnessed my angry brother while hurrying out of the ICU by only sneering at his mother, as if she had only been wasting his time in the ICU. This was followed by my brother shouting at me, too, in the Fuller funeral home while telling Mr. Fuller that I was being investigated for forgery, and bad check writing (which were more lies)!. My brother quickly scribbled out a check from his new, hours-old, checking account, and handed it to Mr. Fuller as he ripped the check I given to Mr. Fuller for our mother’s cremation, right out of Mr. Fuller’s hand. I was only doing what Mr. Fuller requested because he had called the house to remind me to bring a check for our mother’s cremation. Everything happened so fast, and now our mother is gone.

My mother was trying her best for me to keep my bank account from my brother stealing it, when she told me to write out, myself, a $5,000.00 check to my little sister, in response to my sister saying that she needed $5K to have a “trust” written up for me so we could all be sure that I would receive my co-owned with my mother’s “House” account, which even my sister knew was what my brother was trying to steal from me. My sister obviously cashed that check, which provides more proof that at least my bank account which I was living on, indeed, was my bank account. But, my brother was able to steal that account, too. Our mother even wrote a check for $50K, and handed it to me while instructing me to bring it to the clubhouse for full golf membership, and that was one of the few times that I ever visited the Quail Creek clubhouse. When the receptionist actually saw my check, she handed me a membership directory, just like the one we had at home. But, while I waited while glancing through the colorful brochure which the receptionist handed to me, a man walked across the lobby, and snatched it right out of my hands! Then, when I stood up, he explained that he was on the board of directors, and told me that I wasn’t welcome there. Then, when the giant bartender appeared, and stood right next to him, he told me that I had better leave, and actually pushed me toward the door! All I was doing was what I was told to do, and I walked out without being disrespectful, or saying another word, but I never went back to the clubhouse. I went straight back home from our clubhouse after that old man told me that I “had better leave”, (so I went home because the policeman hadn’t said anything to me about WHEN my sister and I could return home… only that both of us had to leave the house, after my sister had called police, and lied, making it sound as if I had assaulted her, when she had assaulted me)!

So, I went back to working as usual taking care of our Quail Creek home, as I had been doing for the last ten years full-time recorded hours, so rarely went to the club house on my own (even though I could have, on my own, for decades). My parents purchased our Quail Creek house in 1987, and our back yard was on the fairway of the 13th hole. I went back to replacing all of our old sprinkler heads, and as I squatted in the bushes replacing one near our sidewalk (see photo), my little sister screeched in the street to a stop right in front of Mr. and Mrs. Sharrah (our two neighbors who lived at the end of our cul-de-sac who were walking their dog as usual). She jumped out of our mother’s car, instead of pulling into the driveway. She was obviously in a hurry to show them something, and I was aware that she had just faxed my stolen health records from the house, followed by us both being told to leave the house, by the police she called, and lied to. My sister left, and came back in just the right amount of time to have gone to check with Debra Russell (our father’s trust

lawyer’s secretary), to see if she had received sister Deb’s fax, and obviously had gotten copies of my stolen health records from Ms. Russell. Please see the fax record (shown) from that day. My little sister obviously couldn’t wait to start showing my stolen personal and private health documents to my neighbors. My brother had obviously already been as eager to show around my health document, which the government had stamped CONFIDENTIAL in large black block (in order to PREVENT someone from using it in the malicious ways it was, indeed, being used)!

In the accusatory letter my sister wrote to her father, my sister demanded $35,000.00 in payment to her, and my father actually paid her, after citing that the damage to his ski business could have cost him way more. Fast forward to my sister letting our neighbors examine whatever papers she let them see that day, and I heard Mr. Sharrah comment, “I always knew that there was something WRONG WITH THAT GUY”! While I was changing a sprinkler head in the bushes, and my sister was talking to the neighbors she had startled by screeching to a stop in the street, then jumping out to show them something, as she was walking away from them, I heard her say, “I just though that you should know this about my brother”! That same neighbor took it upon himself to walk into our front yard on the very next day, just to PUSH OVER my 600 pound rock which I had loaded into my work van using the wheel chair lift I had installed for transporting mom around. I was working tirelessly securing my huge rock, placing it upright in our garden (it resembled a seahorse), and I had been digging it deeply into the ground (see it in the photo). I was using TWO come-along cable pullers, and two different large long crow bars, to secure it safely, and deeply into the ground. But, before I was finished working on it, Mr. Sarrah walked into our yard, and into the garden just to push it over. He destroyed in seconds, what had taken me several hours of very hard work. On his next dog walk, my neighbor admitted to pushing it over, while rudely adding that I was making the neighborhood unsafe.

Pushing that rock over made it go from looking like a seahorse, or creative animal, to just looking like a rock. No-one could have ever pushed over that rock after I had FINISHED securing it, and it would have been way too heavy, especially for any child, to have pushed it over.

I learned, when my mother insisted that my brother showed me for the second time, on my brother’s computer, that the amount(s) in both my Merrill Lynch, and “house” checking accounts, both had exactly the same amount showing in them. When my brother realized this, he freaked out, and changed the amounts, himself, and he did so BEFORE OUR MOTHER DIED! I KNOW, NOW, THAT HE DID SO IN ORDER TO CONFUSE WHAT OUR PARENTS’ INTENTIONS FOR ME WERE! It’s obvious, and I believe that my brother CHANGED ACCOUNT AMOUNTS when he realized that my mother LEGALLY CHANGED THE AMOUNTS TO MATCH THE AMOUNTS in my two accounts, in order so they would have exactly the same amounts in each of the accounts. Then, when my brother obviously realized that was our mother’s last desperate attempt to make anyone/everyone realize what each parent wanted for me. She made the accounts match in order to let anyone/everyone know what it was our parents each wanted for the child who had chosen to EARN THEM WORKING toward having them ($185K for a house, and $185K to live on..

I fondly remember how our mother happily sent my little sister to the bank in order for her to clear out a safety deposit box which she delightfully informed my little sister was in her name. And, when my little sister returned to the house later that same day, she began walking around the house upon walking in, and for the entire rest of that day (even after dinner, and into that evening) continued looking up at the ceiling as if in complete disbelief. I think it was obvious that she must have received all three of the stacks of hundred dollar bills which I saw my father holding in his hands while I walked past his office before he had died. Also, I have no reason not to believe that the $400K my father told my mother in writing “To be opened by DOROTHY (my mother’s name)if he died first… stating that SHE should go clean out the safety deposit box in the Ohio small town bank used for years as his cash ski area business. Instead of my mother going, or me going, my BROTHER WENT, and said that there was NOTHING in the safety deposit box.

During my sister’s visits to Naples after our father died, she conned us into believing that her idea of a “trust” for me, was to be sure that I would get the entire $185K in my mother’s and my 4900 “house” account, and it was in order to prevent my brother from stealing it because she knew that he was threatening me, and even his own mother with criminal liability telling us that the account belonged to the trust! My sister used my brother’s threats, in order to con us into believing that she wanted intent on honoring our mother’s intentions regarding the account, but stated that it would cost $5K to have her trust drawn up. is it would be legal. So, my mother, wisely, told me to write out a $5K check to my sister from out of my #4900 account. She advised doing so, obviously, because it would go toward proving that the account was 100% legally mine. So, I wrote the $5K check to my sister which RE-affirms that the checking account was indeed, MY checking account. My sister returned to the house a day or two later with the colorful several paged “trust” which she was obviously coached into producing, but my mother took it, and me, to a lawyer whose card happened to be in my father’s office. His name was Richard Cinemo., and he informed us that sister Deb’s “trust” would have actually been a guardianship for me! My ten year younger sister would have become my curator, or my guardian!

The time came when besides our mother, I too, realized what was going on behind our backs, but it was obviously too late to do anything about it. She must have even known that her signature stamp would be used illegally, because she made the point of showing me how she could only sign her name SQUIGGLY (without actually explaining why she was showing me, or discussing what she knew, better than I knew, about what was going on with that). She was trying to hide the facts from me, because she didn’t want me hating my own siblings, or anyone, and I was still believing that our mother was RECUPERATING from her operations.

I believe that when our mother realized that my siblings were intent on stealing my inheritance that it tore her to pieces, and was what really killed her. It all began when my sister had first arrived in Naples immediately after the death of our father… It was when she greeted me in a completely different way than she had ever spoken to me. She used slow, exaggerated words which made my mother and I break out laughing. We had no idea that my sister was talking slowly to me like that, because of the fact that my brother had showed her my decades old health records. Now, both my brother AND my sister began using some official looking piece of paper which hadn’t been disturbed, or removed, from my locked file cabinet in my bedroom for nearly thirty years. Obviously, both siblings (and anyone else seeing that) could concoct an exaggerated assessment about me based on conclusions that they had drawn from those health records which suited their needs, and they obviously devised a strategy together to start spreading around slanderous things about me, while showing my stolen health documents around the neighborhood, at the hospital, and all around Naples. I believe that they did this in the most malicious way in order to get people against me so that I wouldn’t want to stay in Naples.

Very soon, my brother was shouting at our mother while she was in the ICU, and at the doctor, and at me, ignoring the rights of any/all of the patients’ privacy every time he shouted the words, “I’ll sue” repeatedly. He did this in the same tone and volume that he screamed “I’ll sue” at me during the previous morning at home (but I had absolutely no idea what he meant by him using those words which he said so threateningly over and over again right into my ears while following me around inside, outside, and back inside). I actually thought that maybe he was doing so in his efforts toward trying to get me to hit him. All I learned about him yelling those same words again in the ICU, was that they were the reason that my mother became unresponsive in the ICU… because my brother wouldn’t stop shouting “I’ll SUE”, and “You’re not being FAIR” to his mother. What I didn’t know was that it was all part of my brother’s strategy! I think that while my sister was making a scene at the bank (Instead of being at the hospital), my brother was being obnoxious in the ICU. And, in order to get the DOCTOR to sign one of my brother’s legal papers, every time he saw the doctor walk back into the ICU, he would say to the DOCTOR, “I’ll sue”, threateningly. Each and every time that the doctor came near my brother in the busy ICU, my brother repeated his ugly words threateningly again to the doctor, and at the precise instant when the doctor was reading what appeared to be patient notes, and writing things down, my brother lightning fast reached into the brief on my brother’s shoulder, and laid down his legal paper precisely where the doctor was routinely signing several things, and where the doctor was repeatedly writing things down, and even I could read my brother’s paper. It showed where the doctor could sign legally documenting that our mother was “MEDICALLY UNRESPONSIVE”. The doctor was ignoring my brother each time that my brother was putting that legal document on the table trying to convince the doctor to sign. Finally, and obviously in order to get my brother out of the doctor’s face, and out of the ICU, the doctor signed my brother’s document. When it was signed, my brother abruptly turned around with his signed document, walked straight past me, looked over at his mother, SNEERED at her, and whisked out leaving the hospital. Then, the first call at the house on the next morning which I had no idea was coming, came… We were informed that our mother had passed away.