My dear mother died 2 years ago today.
I was not there. My auntie was, I made sure Mom was not alone. I gave her her sister. Aunt Ginny was in jail when I told her Mom was sick. She was in a bad way. I bought her a bus ticket, from Michigan to NYC, so she could be with my mother. I couldn’t do it, because I was a stranger to my own mother.
Mom was not comfortable with me. I guess it was because she gave me away, and because she was mentally ill.
I don’t understand mental illness. I never had experience with it, before I found my mother. I did not know how cruel mental illness was. It allows a person to do terrible things. They don’t want to do those things, but their mind bends in a way that makes them think what they are doing in OK.
I still have a lot to learn. I’m still so angry, at my mother, at the world. At whoever made me what I am.
I never got to know my mother. Oh God, why did you do this to me? Are you to blame?