My mother was never what you’d imagine to be a good mum. Of course there were moments and I do cherish a few fond memories, but they stand out for their rarity. When she walked out on my dad 20-odd years ago, leaving him with the most horrible mess, none of which of his making, and which he had to work incredibly hard to get through. She also walked away from her children, grown as we were, and did not contact us for some time.
We each grieved, more than we expected, I think. This may seem odd but it was as if she’d died, the relationships as they were had been ended by her. So when she did eventually get in touch I certainly was in a different place and found it hard to know what to do next. My GP wisely pointed out to me that I did not have to do anything, that I control my response, no-one else. I learned a lot from that and decided that any relationship I had would be honest. My mum would not be honest about what happened or anything so we just stopped. And we’d not been in contact at all since.
Of course I would know of her, vaguely, through her siblings that were in touch still. And I believe she was happily settled with a partner; I do hope she was happy. I feel sad for him and those close to her.
But I will always wish things had been different. I’ll always wonder why my mum didn’t really love me. It is over now anyway. Glad to know how a mother/child relationship can be (aka the most wonderful thing in the world) and perhaps I appreciate that more for not having had it before.
All that love she didn’t enjoy, though. That is the saddest thing.
Rest in Peace, mum.