I have no idea whether my mother is alive or dead, nor do I care. I greatly respect that she raised me single-handed after my father died when I was young, and in every way but emotionally, did a good job of it. And also that she was accepting of my being rather unusual, even though she didn't really understand it.
But I will never forgive her for utterly disregarding my wishes, when I was adult, in the most important things in life, like the death of my Nan, her mother. I was halfway across the country, in hospital, and aware that my Nan had taken ill. I was closer to my Nan than my mother. I wanted to be sure to be able to say goodbye to her, and had checked with the medics that they'd be happy to release me for a couple of days to go see her, and they were. I phoned my Mum explaining and asking her to tell me if it looked like Nan wouldnt pull through. She promised she would. No phone call, no letter, so I remained in hospital for another two weeks to return home to find that Nan had died and been buried, where I still do not know.
Mum said she thought it had been for the best. My express wish to say goodbye to Nan despite being ill myself meant nothing to Mum - all she cared about was what she thought was for the best. That wasn't the only time she did that sort of thing to me, but it was the worst - the more important the situation, the more likely my Mum would ignore my wishes and lie to me.
The final straw between me and her came one day when I went to visit Mum, and her first words to me having opened the front door were "are you still wearing that old coat?" - it was a perfectly good coat, I loved it, and I still have it 20 years later again. But no hello, so good to see you, just straight in with criticism. Always the criticisms from Mum, never any praise or respect for me or my wishes as an adult. I just said goodbye, turned around and took an early coach home.
I reckon I must've been an accident, I can't imagine she actually wanted children.
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