Revelations of a random day
I dreamed of my mother last night. Nothing particularly important, just an acting out of [my perception of] the dynamic we had when she was alive, but in a dream setting.
When I woke up, though, I realized something: I don't miss her, any more. Sometimes, I still miss the mother I should have had, but that's not any different from when she was alive. And now that she's gone, I've finally accepted in a way that I couldn't while she was alive that I would never have gotten the parent that I deserved, even if she had lived to be 102.
What we had while she was alive was the best it was ever going to be. There were good moments there; I'd be lying if I tried to claim that it was all bad. There were a few certain situations-situations where she had to advocate for me rather than deal directly with me-where she could be a really good mom. There were occasional times when we genuinely enjoyed each other's company. But those times were few and far between, and they weren't nearly enough.
I woke up this morning and realized that what hurts, now, almost two years later, is that my mom is gone. She was the only mom I've ever had, and now she's dead and I'll never get that back. My mom is dead; I know with every fiber of my being that I'm far, far better off now, and I don't miss her even a little. That hurts. It turns out, that hurts a lot. But I hurt entirely for me, not for her.
When I woke up, though, I realized something: I don't miss her, any more. Sometimes, I still miss the mother I should have had, but that's not any different from when she was alive. And now that she's gone, I've finally accepted in a way that I couldn't while she was alive that I would never have gotten the parent that I deserved, even if she had lived to be 102.
What we had while she was alive was the best it was ever going to be. There were good moments there; I'd be lying if I tried to claim that it was all bad. There were a few certain situations-situations where she had to advocate for me rather than deal directly with me-where she could be a really good mom. There were occasional times when we genuinely enjoyed each other's company. But those times were few and far between, and they weren't nearly enough.
I woke up this morning and realized that what hurts, now, almost two years later, is that my mom is gone. She was the only mom I've ever had, and now she's dead and I'll never get that back. My mom is dead; I know with every fiber of my being that I'm far, far better off now, and I don't miss her even a little. That hurts. It turns out, that hurts a lot. But I hurt entirely for me, not for her.