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      My mom

     



I lost my mom at 26 in 1994. Her death began in July 94, I was 8 months pregnant with my second. She was acting odd which because of a previous depression we thought that was the problem. During that depression, I was there to get the family, my father and 18 year old brother through it, because of a troubled family for most of my life, I was now resentful. Here I was, married and pregnant with my 2nd child.


My own childhood was tough as far as security and the roles put upon us. We were in a home with a father who drank the weekend away, and a mother with a quick verbal temper and a rocky marriage. I was always told they were together for the children, but always wished for a divorce! My father and I are very close and I forgive his past as I always new the true man, he loves us dearly and admits to messing things up. But he is also very quick with" That's the past. We Can't change anything", making my memories feel quite invalid. My mother had it tough, I see now, she dealt with verbal abuse for 2 nights of the week, worked ridiculous hours and was isolated in a small community, I can now see it must have been tough. But here I am resenting her, for the nights she would get me involved in the chaos as a young child, taking away my innocence, and I resent her for being angry, too busy, and not being an approachable mom. I resent her because I feel like I was ripped off of having a secure loving childhood.


As the years went on, I was still saving the family and taking care of her emotional needs.... the counsellor. I was resentful, but still her daughter and I did it. I then married, I think to remove myself from the house, but also as a depressed young adult (which I now realise) to try and feel better. I love my husband dearly, but I now see I married someone who doesn't clear up the family problems either! I then had a child, who my mother was excited to welcome, but frame of mind said 'how dare you have excitement over my child, when you didn't for your own', so I really distanced myself from her. She had another depression, I was there for her of course, I was her daughter and that was my role, everyday I was with her, lunch, shopping, getting her to deal with her anxiety and fears. I did a good job, but felt she still didn't love me.


Life went on and in July 94, she said she herself thought she was heading into another depression (which were always labelled psychotic). Here I was pregnant, tired and resentful once again, but I said I would be there. In the meantime, not being able to handle it my father said he would help her get better then ask for a divorce. We arranged an appointment, she was prescribed the usual drugs and told to go home but it was different this time. She was losing her speech going to weird rages, laughing and smiling uncontrollably.


I went into labour and had a son. Four days later I was released and admitted my mom to the psychiatric ward. I went to visit her the next morning with my 5-day-old son in my arms and told it wasn't visiting hours. I fell to my knees exhausted. I was then let in to see her. She came down the hallway, with a relaxed left side, holding her head and silently crying. We were put in a visiting room and she (without speech) kept squeezing her head and hitting her left side and I new with her eyes she couldn't feel it.


With excruciating pain in her head mom was sent for a scan. On my son's 6day check-up, her doctor asked to see me. As a result of the scan they found brain tumours. Mom had 2 months to live.


Family (a big one on her side) fell apart and attacked each other as each member went through their own experience as to the relationship they held with her. My family was pushed aside, disregarding the fact we were husband, daughter and son. Decisions were made without consulting us and cruel things were said.


After she died I was called and told by a family member, that as her daughter I had given a speech at her funeral that wasn't enough, a terrible obituary and numerous other cruel words. I was devastated, and left that family hurt. I will never forget what was said or done, but I honestly forgive. But what a spin they put on my grieving process! I now know my mother loved me dearly, the best she could. They haven't taken that part away from me. Being away from that family has left them with my mother's side of the story. I feel like I need to defend my actions. But in my heart, I was always there, her daughter. I was recently told by people who knew my mom "it seemed once you were her friend, she never forgot that".


It hurt to be her friend, for me it did, but I see now that we were a family hurting. I miss her dearly, everyday, I didn't get to say I was sorry, and tell her why we didn't have those intimate talks. I know she left with unsaid words, but I do know she loved me. I am in the place now where I see who she was, and now know her love for me. I just have trouble with the fact I never told her I truly loved her too.

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