Member-only story
What in the Actual Hell Just Happened?
When you see your dead mother.
It all happened so fast.
I was bitching out loud to no one in particular as I am prone to do when I turned around and there she was.
Same short blonde hair. I recognized the blue-green shirt. I think it was one of the last things I saw her in. She was healthy. No skin and bones from the cancer that took over her body.
She was smiling.
“Mom!” as I went towards the kitchen to her. It didn’t even occur to me that I was actually happy to see her.
She had untreated BPD which made her a nightmare to deal with. All during my childhood, I had begged for two things. One was for dad to leave her and take me with him. The other was for dad’s parents to adopt me and get me the hell out of that house. Since neither of those ever happened I married the first bum from out of town and moved to the DC area.
But now there she was standing in my kitchen.
As I rounded the pillar and reached for her just like that she was gone again.
I didn’t get to hold her, hug her, or cry on her.
I didn’t get to tell her that I was sorry for being such a horrible daughter. For not understanding. For not trying harder. For walking away and leaving her with her narcissistic husband, my father. The “man” who after all the kids had grown up and left the house treated her worse and worse.
I put my own selfish need for survival above all else.
I’m so sorry mom.
