Bitter Goodbye …

What do you say when someone dies that you used to idolize when you were younger? It’s been 13 years since we last spoke, and those last words were not exactly sentimental or worth repeating right now. I knew her death was coming. I had been dreaming about it for months. I wondered if those dreams were God’s way of telling me I that I needed to make peace with her, for what she did. Or maybe it was to make peace with myself. I’m not quite sure.

Finding out that she had passed really didn’t shake me up like I thought it would. Is that bad? Not sure what I expected really. Maybe to cry a little bit. Maybe to feel some guilt for writing her out of my life, shutting the door, locking it up, and permanently losing that key. Nope, nothing. I don’t feel anything. Am I not human? Or am I so angry and bitter, that I can’t get past the hell that she put the family through?

When I was little kid, I idolized her. So did my cousins. We thought she was perfect. She was the best woman we knew. She took care of us, and gave us everything we wanted. She could do no wrong. Ha! Boy was we wrong. We had no idea the mean and nasty demons that lived within her. We were oblivious to the things she had done to our parents and to others. We didn’t know. We were clueless. We loved her.

But then we grew up, and could see it for ourselves. The stories our parents told, that we once thought were lies, were a hard naked truth. Eventually one’s true colors really shine through. It may take a long time to see it, but eventually you will. And we did.

How can I forgive her for what she did to my mom? How can I forgive her for the way she treated her? This woman was truly one of the meanest, most narcissistic, unsympathetic people I have ever known. The lies, the horrible things she did to my mom throughout her life. The tears I watched my own mother shed because of this woman. My mom didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve any of it. How horrible it must have been for her to have a mother like that. It breaks my heart thinking about it now. Then when my mom passed away, this woman wouldn’t even go to her own daughter’s funeral, or her son’s, or her mothers. And her lame excuses…puke me, please. I can’t even….

Am I going to go and pay my last respects? I have no respects to pay. I have nothing to give. I have anger and hate built up inside me, that I kept buried deep, and it has finally manifested itself into this rage that is threatening to rip right through me. I can’t go to her funeral. I can’t go for the same reasons I couldn’t speak to her ever again right after my own mother passed away.

I know that these feelings towards her are vile and can poison a person’s soul. And I’m sure some who are reading this are probably gasping… “How can she write something so horrible about the deceased?” “She should be ashamed of herself.” Save it, because I’m not. And I don’t give a damn about what you think either. That woman didn’t give a damn when she emotionally abused my mother and her brother. When she toyed with other people’s feelings and lives. Do you think she gave one solid Fuck? Nope, none. I’d take that to the bank.

Last I knew, she spent most of her remaining time alone. She lost her daughter, her son, her mother. She pushed away her grandkids. But you know what they say, what goes around comes around…

I wonder if my mom and her brother met her at the gates of Heaven. Then again, after the way she treated them, is she even in Heaven? But when it comes to that, I am going to try and not judge because I don’t know what her relationship with God was like in her final days. Maybe she made peace with God and was forgiven for all the hell she unleashed on the family. Or maybe she wasn’t. She would have to acknowledge she even did anything wrong and be truly sorry for it. That would be a God given miracle, if I ever did see one…

So what was the point in this? I’m not really sure. Maybe I just needed to let it all out. Maybe I just needed a way to vent my anger towards her, after everything she did. I do know one good thing that I learned from her, and that was how to NEVER to treat my own children. I know I sound cold and heartless, but I can’t help how I feel. May God have mercy on her soul. Maybe he already has. I hope so, for her sake.

When I was asked last night how I felt and if I was going to her funeral, my response was this: When my mother passed away, she died with her. It’s just taken 13 years to bury her.

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