I can actually only only a few happy memories.
I know she tried her best with the tools she was given but, I resentful of the tools she refused to use to try and make things better.
My mother died early Thursday morning. The official cause has not been released but, evidence points to complications from a stroke.
She was a woman who had many vulnerabilities, compounded by the loss of my father.
She remarried a man whose main goal was to have everything his way.
Afterall, it was the way he had learned from his abusive father. He allowed that cycle to continue and refused to change even if it meant things could be better.
He refused to give up that power.
Over the years, he further isolated my mother from the family that knew her and would protect her.
They relocated to PEI. She was alone and miserable.
I was in my late teens and lacked the resources to help. The only thing I could suggest was to come back home.
She refused.
Her place, she said, was by her husband.
My sister and I resented that.
We thought her place should be with family.
PEI did not agree with him.
He made the decision to move back to Ontario.
He never asked my mother her opinion.
He made the decision, drove to Ontario alone. Found a house that suited his needs.
Filled out the paperwork and my mother, sight unseen, was required to look after a house she had no say in.
He had decided her car was too big and too difficult for her to control.
He sold it and chose a car he thought was more suitable.
She accepted his decision with minimal argument.
He knew best.
He wanted to travel with a trailer.
She did not.
The very idea seemed like too much work for her.
He knew best.
They bought a trailer and several more because there was always something lacking with the previous.
This was her life.
Constantly allowing decisions involving her to be made for her.
She never said anything to the contrary.
He knew best.
She gave up her family, her freedom, and her choice to appease a man who was never satisfied and always looking for something else.
Our last interaction was a fight.
I was angry.
I have no regrets about anything I told her. It was honest.
All of our lives, were controlled by this man who did not care what anyone else needed never mind wanted.
A divide was created between a mother and her children all for the sake of staying next to someone who would control her every move.
I told her, you can stay with us.
We want you here.
You can do what you want, when you want and no one will say otherwise.
She said no.
I was ungrateful for all he had done.
Her place was to remain with him at all and every single cost even if it meant never seeing her children who she claimed to love but would never protect.
I am filled with intense rage right now.
I have to sit quietly while people, wishing well, offer condolences on a relationship that never existed.
I understand she thinks she did her best.
I have to accept that.
I have found comfort among my relatives who finally feel safe to talk about my mother and the controlling marriage she shared with that man.
The only thing to do now is just say good bye and come to terms with a relationship where the child had to do the heavy work to maintain any form of mental stability in a house filled with so anxiety and fear.
She was my mother.
I loved her.
