In times of death...

My mother died.

I have not spoken with her in about 4 years, though I knew about her health issues, when she made someone mad, when my brother stole from her, when she was good, when she was not, when she made a nurse upset and when she said something nice.  My sister still was involved and it was hard for her when I opted out, so I was her only support with a mother such as ours.

I honestly, did not think I would take it so hard.  This woman who beat me until I bled.  Gave me lifelong scars and disfunctional joints.  The woman who told me I was worthless and would never find someone to love me.  The woman who put extra chocolate in my hot chocolate when I could not taste it because I was also eating oreos.  The woman who would play Scrabble with me until 1:00 am and make me amazing costumes for Halloween.

I honestly thought I would feel relief.  Relief from her hot and cold, nice and screaming, never knowing what mood or if she would attack me or hug me.   From her pain, from the awful depression she felt.  From the man that would beat her until he came when she was only 12-13 (sick fucker!!).

But I don't.  I am so sad I cannot breath.  My husband hates her, he only saw the bad.  I remember times of fierce love and maybe a desperate longing for a real mother that could pay the electric bill and keep food in the house.


I go through moments of feeling ok with it and times that I just cry and cry.  If she were still alive, would I try to reconnect?  Not at all.  I just could not take the pain of her any more and I am truly at peace with that.

But a person died.  A person that carried me around on a pillow because I was so sick as a baby.  This person that gave me life.  So, although I decided that I could not circle in the same realm as her, she was still my mother.  Good or bad, she was my mother.  And she is now gone.  I honestly never knew how bad this would hurt - never.