I loved my mother.
My mom was a whoring drunk.
She was very supportive of me being gay. After I told parents I was gay, my mom got drunk and told all the relatives in the small, racist town where I was born.
I moved back to the city where parents lived and took care of my mom through her extended terminal illness. She passed in 84 at 49 years old. I left no stone unturned in helping her through her illness so I have no regrets there.
That's about all I know about that.
oh well ...
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