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My mother passed away a few weeks ago.
We had been estranged for 3 years. I had gone no contact in an attempt to preserve my sanity. Our relationship had always been rough, which is not something that everyone understands. She was my mother. A lot of people felt it was my duty to take care of her in her old age. That I should sacrifice everything for her, which is what it would have meant.
Growing up in that house was chaotic at best. My home was a sort of hub for my mother’s side of the family. My maternal grandmother and one of my maternal aunts lived with us, and so the rest of the family and their friends were visiting constantly, partying, drinking, smoking into the wee hours even on school nights. These parties would devolve into screaming matches more often than not. At 14, I was the one to tell a grown man to stop groping my aunt; it was making her uncomfortable. Fourteen, warning this man to keep his hands to himself.
My mother drank a lot. I truly hated it. She would get in this mood where she’d want to pick fights with me, and she would succeed in this more often than not. It was exhausting.
Still. She was my mother. I did not and do not hate her, I recognize that she had trauma and that she was ill. I believe she did love me. But proximity to her was making me drown alongside with her.
I’m not sure why I’m writing all this. It’s hard to put how I feel into words. I’m not perfect either and I’m not going to pretend that I am. I am sad, but I feel like this is a relationship that I’ve been mourning for a long time before she passed, if that makes sense.
I’m very sorry for your loss and all that you went through 😢