She followed that up by telling us we were shitty kids that didn’t care about any of our grandparents so obviously the news wouldn’t matter to us.
This is not an uncommon tactic my mom uses for “dealing” with her grief. But it took me until January this year – until I was almost 43 years old – to realize just how inappropriate and manipulative this behavior is.
It was the proverbial straw for me. I called her out on her behavior. Her response, late last night, was to deny all responsibility for her words. If I was offended or upset, she said, that was on me, not her. Again, not an uncommon response from my mother.
All of that makes the perfectly normal and healthy grief for a dying family member so much more complicated, and so much worse.
It’s ironic. All I’ve ever wanted was to be part of a large, happy family. I never realized that that was because my own family was abusive and dysfunctional. So there’s that.
Now, all I can think is fuck that. Fuck them. I’m done. And I can’t wait to move away from here.