Thanks for sharing your heart felt story on this blog. It really touched me and I would like to do ANYTHING I can to help you. Unfortunately, for the next 2 days, I will be moving into a rental, but on Wednesday, I will be able to help. Please email me or I’ll call you on Wed. My email is = Moe at LoanSafe.org

Please take care and keep the faith Ondine.

Peace be with you and your brother!

To Anyone Who May Help Me,

My name is Ondine Elene Fogelberg. I am 34 years old and live in my mother’s home, looking after my mentally ill younger brother, who has in the last few years been continuing his recovery after spending years in mental institutions. I am writing because I have NO ONE ELSE to help and I AM BEYOND DESPERATE for a kind ear to hear our story.

My brother Christopher and I are fighting foreclosure, and have been fighting an uphill battle to assume and possibly modify the mortgage on our mother’s house since November of 2009. Yesterday, I was informed by Wells Fargo’s Loss Mitigation Department that the home is in active foreclosure even though I successfully completed a 3 month “Special Forbearance”. Though I have made at least half a dozen calls to my “negotiator” at Wells Fargo, a Mr. Louis Gomez prior to this shocking news, I am unable to get him or anyone to just simply TALK to me and tell me what I need to do to save this house. I am so disheartened that the banks are reluctant to work with me when ALL I WANT TO DO IS PAY THIS MORTGAGE. It is NOT a free handout that I ask for; I just want to keep our family home. Please, I implore you, Dear reader to keep reading.

Prior to July 31, 2007, I worked with my mother, Elizabeth Goldner, successfully recruiting executives for the automotive industry, an industry my mother LOVED. She opened our firm in 1995 and named it Manufacturing Edge. At the time my brother was moved out of the mental hospital after several years, and moved into a Group Home for people who suffered from some sort of mental illness. It was the last step before he could FINALLY come home to us. We missed him so much. It was if the light of our lives was dimmed while he was away. My brother prior to his hospitalization made MULITIPLE SUICIDE ATTEMPTS. The battle to save my brother was long, trying and to say it was “hard” would be a GROSS understatement.

On July 31 of 2007, my mother was involved in a severe car accident, which was no fault of hers. A careless driver, who had just left an eye exam, with eyes still dilated, pulled into a multi-lane road and into traffic with an average speed of 50 mph. From this accident she suffered a TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY. Symptoms included nausea, dizziness, vertigo, stuttering and memory loss…just to name a few. The vertigo would cause her to fall to the floor without warning. Once she even fell off the toilet late one night and she pounded on the floor for me to come help her. The anxiety from the vertigo caused her to have something that I understand to be a panic attack. She would turn GHOST WHITE, sweat, lose her breath and often defecate herself. Looking down, even just to read, would trigger these crippling spells. As an inevitable result, she was unable to go to work and ultimately lost the business she loved and worked so hard to build. My mother could not seem to do anything she once could. She could enjoy the simple things which brought her so much joy such as gardening, travelling, going to sport events or even a simple ride in a car. Mom was a “Type-A” personality who was often quoted saying “PULL YOURSELF BY THE BOOTSTRAPS” and “OLD AGE DOESN’T KILL, RETIREMENT DOES”. “TRYING” was NOT in her vocabulary, as she believed ANYTHING could be accomplished if one had enough DETERMINATION & FAITH. Her heroes included people who possessed knowledge of self worth and a strength that was undeniable…figures like Theodore Roosevelt, Bo Schembechler and Martin Luther King. Though she was making progress with her healing, it was as fast as she would have liked. At least once a day after the accident, my mother would profusely apologize to my brother Chris and I because she felt ashamed and embarrassed that we had to take care of her every need (which to us was an ABSOLUTE HONOR rather than a burden)…..which caused her to become despondent and depressed. She felt she was a prisoner of her home as well as, her own body. She would stare at the Crucifix on her wall and pray out loud, begging for mercy, begging The Lord to end her life. So many times I pleaded with her to hold on, have faith, just a mustard seed was enough and reminded her, just as she did to us kids that NOTHING WORTH WHILE AND OR RIGHTEOUS WILL EVER BE EASY.

In November of 2009, a few years after the accident, Mom was still a prisoner to her illness was beyond melancholy. I was back in school full-time working towards a Doctorates of Pharmacy, working part time at a jewelry store and of course tending to Mom and shared all household duties with my brother, who thankfully was finally able to move back to the home he loved and the family he loved and who in return, loved him more. We have always been a close woven family and though there were only three of us, the love and compassion we all shared was well recognized, admired and envied by any and all who knew us. Though I was active, both mentally and physically, I was taken to the E.R., for what was a Pulmonary Embolism which thankfully did not make its way to my heart. After that, she did let me out of her sight, I even snuggled and slept next to her every night as she held my hand and made sure I was ok. On a Monday, November 16th Mom and brother accompanied me to cardiologist to get the final “o.k.” and was thankful to God that her baby was going to be fine. On the way home, she told us that we were God’s Gift to her, as she was told she could not have children. She believed us both to be examples of Miracles of God. She said she has never known a Love like that she had for us. She made us promise to stay close and look after one another after she died.

On November 18th, I woke up for work and heard Mom’s alarm clock going off, but hurried out the door, so as to not be late for work. I needed the little monies from this job, because we lost our business and our household income included only Mom’s Social Security, my brother’s SSD, and my small, but greatly needed paychecks. It was a chilly November day and I was working on some chemistry studies at work, because business was slow and I needed to catch up after my absence from school due to my health issue. My cell rang, it was my brother and I answered to hear him WAILING AND CRYING “MOMMIES NOT BREATHING!!! MOMMIES NOT BREATHING!!!” I then instructed him to call 911 immediately and I shot out the door to race home. The Drive felt like an eternity in Hell. I pulled up to a sea of Police, Fire trucks and ambulances. I ran past the blur of figures in our kitchen up to my mom’s room. There she lay in bed, green in color, vomit and blood in her mouth and on her chin, I could also she that she had defecated herself. MY MOMMY, MY LIFE, MY BEST FRIEND, MY TRUE NORTH WAS DEAD. Late the previous night, my mother took her own life and forever robbing Chris and I of the GREATEST LOVE we have ever known. Simply typing this now floods my eyes with tears and my heart with such an indescribable pain that I refuse to believe that there ever to exist a word created that could relay it in its dark entirety. It was only 9 days after her 68th birthday. And though a year, two months and twelve days have passed, I still cannot believe it. My mother would NEVER give up! My mother believed suicide to be a sin!

Since we had NO MONEY, we had to borrow money from friends just to have her cremated. The shame of not being able to tend to one’s mother’s last need still weighs heavy on my heart. Fortunately friends of mine were able to make arrangements so I could view my mommy one more time. I had her dressed in a shirt that I had made for her on her birthday earlier that month. The shirt had a big picture of her, very pregnant with my brother and I on her back, holding up my little index finger as if I were proclaiming “WE ARE NUMBER ONE!” Under the photo I had it written in large, bold letters “ONE LOVE”. A top this shirt I had them put on her the long, soft, white robe given to her for birthday from my brother. She looked like an Angel even in Death. There was no one there except her, a friend of mine who drove me, a preacher and me. In her coffin I put a picture of all three of us smiling, a rosary and twirled a long lock of my hair around her lifeless fingers which once held mine ever so tightly. Fingers that would no longer guide me in the right direction. I leaned over her, stroked her hair and whispered to her how much I loved her and how much I missed her as my warm tears fell on her cold face. I asked her “WHY, WHY WHY”, why leave us? Why let Chris find her body? Why compromise his mental condition? Why leave me solely responsible to take the role of his parent and guardian as well, as his sister? I could see him display symptoms just like he did in the past…before he made attempts on his life. The poor sole not only has that image burned forever in his memory, but also his desperate attempts to revive her cold, green body with CPR. Every night since then, I lay in the dark, alone with this horrible image, and pray The Lord will in time purge my brother of this image. I also pray and beg for His mercy, mercy for my mother’s soul as I cannot imagine a Heaven without such a bright star that is my mommy, Elizabeth.

The weeks that followed are I blur. I did not leave the house. I spent weeks it seems, sleeping in her bed….hoping to wake from this nightmare. When I would be conscious, I prayed for the strength to fight. I prayed for God to show me what it is that I need to do to protect my brother…as he is all that I have left. Without hesitation I would gladly give my life if it would mean saving his. It was my duty to take the reigns and try to piece everything together. Chris and I spent our First Christmas without mommy. There was no tree, no presents, and no resemblance of hope or happiness to be found. We sat at the dinner opposite from one another, with swollen eyes gazing at mom’s empty seat at the table. As tears rolled down from his big brown eyes, over his round cheeks and onto the tablecloth, I asked him what his Christmas wish was. Choking and sobbing he said he did not want to lose his sister or his home. I assured him that I indeed was never going to leave him, but I didn’t make any assumptions about the home because I knew nothing about mortgages or home ownership, let alone all the red tape that came with taking them over from a deceased parent.

My mom’s first mortgage is with Wells Fargo and the last note paid was that November. That was the extent of my knowledge at the time. I called W.F. and they would not tell me ANYTHING because I was not my mom and my name was not on the mortgage nor the deed. We did not continue to make mortgage payments because we did not know if WF would even let us stay in the home. The only way WF would talk to me is if I were the Head of the Estate. This was not completed until the end of March 2010. At which point I needed the assistance of a HUD counselor who assured us that we were NOT going to lose our home because our Government was helping citizens like us, avoid foreclosure. In May 2010 we had a “mediation” conference call with the foreclosure attorneys at Trott & Trott in hopes of slightly modifying the loan as well as, assuming it. Right off the bat, we were DENIED modification because it was considered an “estate loan” for which they did not offer modifications on. I was then instructed by Trott & Trott to complete an “ASSUMPTION” of the mortgage, which is a NON-QUALIFYING ASSUMPTION. It was a lengthy process, which included me getting a Quit Claim Deed on the property filed at the courthouse. The Assumption Department of WF completed (or so I thought) in August 2010. I was then DENIED AGAIN for modification for whatever reason. WF offered us a trail period, called a “SPECIAL FOREBARANCE” of making reduced payments for 3 months. The first payment was made November 2010, last payment January 2011. ALL PAYMENTS WERE SUCCESSFULLY MADE AND ON TIME.

After I made the last payment, I called my Negotiator at WF, Louis Gomez, what was to be the next step. Because I was getting worried that he was not calling me back, I called the Loss Mitigation Department of WF in search of answers. This was earlier this month. They at which point said I was NOT ELIGIBLE FOR A MODIFICATION because…. THE ASSUMPTION WAS NOT COMPLETED!!! My heart fell into my stomach. HOW COULD THIS BE??? Kathy Traveras at the Assumptions Department (in Alaska) assured me that it was done back in August. Immediately I called Ms. Traveras and she informed me that it was NOT a FULL assumption….unless I paid the back mortgage notes, now totaling $14,000!!! So hear I am fighting for a modification that I cannot get without an Assumption and an Assumption I cannot get without a Modification!!! Yesterday I called the Loss/Mit department again because I STILL HAVE NOT HEARD from my “negotiator” and at which point I was told that THE HOME WAS IN ACTIVE FORECLOSURE!!! The foreclosure date was January 18!!!! I NEVER WAS CALLED, MAILED, NOTIFIED, NOTHING!!! EVEN THE LADY AT LOSS/MIT WAS AT A LOSS FOR WORDS!!! It was my hopes to have some, if not all back payments to be put on the end of the mortgage, which I was told was possible in addition to a slightly reduced payment that we could afford…we only it ask for a $100 reduction, possibly a lowered interest rate. I ONLY WANT TO GIVE MONEY TO WF!!!! Why does this have to be so difficult and complicated?? My shoulders are broad in regards to the ungodly stress and anguish that I have recently endured, but I am growing weak. I have lost my mother to an untimely death and now I may lose the only place I feel safe…our home. If we lose our home, it is going to place EVEN MORE heartache on us. I cannot jeopardize my little brother’s mental well being, which has already been beyond compromised.

Just as the pain and loss we have suffered remain undefined, so does the need and love of our family home. Because my mother has no grave to which to go to…this home is the LAST PART OF HER WE HAVE. She is entwined in every square inch of this house. Our garden alone is the home to some of our happiest moments as a family. Each tree, plant and flower has a story. The multiple Japanese maple trees were each a Mother’s Day gift to my mom from Chris & I over the years, as they were her favorite. The tall, yellow rose by the front door is named after my Grandmother, Galatea. My mom and were planting it late summer 1998 when I took a break from planting it to go check on my grandmother. My grandmother died that night and like her, this delicate, yellow rose has triumphed over many hard seasons. The red tree in front of the patio is named Lazarus. This tree was almost completely dead when Chris took on the arduous task of digging it up and against my mother’s wishes, replant in another location because he knew the tree could make it. It has since then, more than tripled its size and is the preferred spot of the doves to sit under and cool off during the summer. We have our one eyed squirrel that we adore, named “One-Eyed Jack” and a small Sparrow which makes her nest in the birdhouse by the front door year after year named “Boobalina”. As you may well see, we LOVE our home. To us, this is NOT just a home; it is a sanctuary, a place we love, a place that comforts us, a nest our mom made for us. Her bedroom is where I go to pray and talk to her. Oddly, it still has her sweet “smell”…it is as if she was just in there. PLEASE DON’T LET THEM TAKE THIS FROM US!! I am begging you to help us!

My mom, Elizabeth, was an incredible person. She was born in Europe during the Second World War and her earliest memories are of bloodshed, of seeing death, raping of her mother in front of her, of being in German camps and of being separated from her family. It was the kindness of an American church which sponsored my mom’s family escape to the USA. My mom’s first and fondest memory of the USA was that of having her first Coke and Cheeseburger at a Big Boy restaurant. She absolutely LOVED being an American, and was completely and utterly INSULTED if you called her otherwise. She believed in Equality which she demonstrated when she marched for the Rights of the African-Americans back in the turbulent 60’s. She even shot by White Supremacists for doing so. In her younger years, she played Hockey with the guys and had all the fake teeth to prove it. Despite her final decision, I AM PROUD TO SAY THAT SHE WAS MY MOM. Though my time with her was cut short, I am THANKFUL for every single second that I had her in my life. She could not imagine the incredibly VAST and HEARTBREAKING void she has left in our lives. She was greatly respected, and well loved by many…but by no one more than Chris and I. This is her home. We are her legacy. It is my wish, as well as my brother’s wish to grow old here. There is no other place in the world we would ever call “HOME”.

Lastly, I want to thank you. Thank you for reading our story if not for anything else. I deeply apologize if it is choppy and not well put together, but it is honest and candid. It is my hope that I was able to relay to you my pain, frustration and urgent need for help. If there is nothing you can do personally to help, but might know of a person who can, I would be greatly indebted to you for doing so. I have fighting for this since my mom’s passing in November 2009 and I am in desperate need of help!!! Thank you again for your time.

Sincerely & Humbly,

Ondine E. Fogelberg
248-245-7931 (always leave a VM w/ name & #)
2460 Ogden Drive
West Bloomfield, Michigan 48323
ondinedaniels@yahoo.com