I wrote a post recently about the death of my mother. We were not close. As a matter of fact, for my own well-being, I had put a lot of distance between us. I alluded to this in my post but didn’t go into the negative details of our past.
I probably never will as this is not the kind of blog that I want.
Nobody comes here to listen to that shit.
A commenter pointed out the fact that, no matter our relationship with our mothers, we never really “lose” them. They are a part of us – good, bad or ugly. That is very true. It’s what we do with that influence that matters.
Because of her recent death and my having to deal with what little estate there is, I guess that she has been on my mind far more than usual. Sadly, it doesn’t tend to be in a nice way.
|My mother's cat making herself at home|
My uncle, her brother, wondered if she had some degree of depression since it tends to run in that side of the family. Looking at how she lived and her outward attitude to things, he could be right. Unfortunately, my mother was never the type to admit something like that, let alone seek help. Of course, it could also be that she was just a negative, selfish person who had no regard for how others felt. I guess that we’ll just never know for sure which it is.
I hope that someday I’ll be able to look back and see the good things. I’d really like that. Other people who knew her had nice things to say and good memories so maybe there’s some hope for me.