I’m mad. I cannot express how mad I am. In October, I received a voicemail message from one of my sisters. I knew, even before Iistened to it, that my mother was no more. I even said it out loud at work. (Fortunately for me, nobody at work listened!) I told my boss, finished up some work, then left. I didn’t go back until the following week.So through this, my sister called because she needed to talk-it apparently hit her harder than it hit me. She and her other sister spent time talking. I didn’t really have anyone but my Drumba family, my husband, a dear friend and my kids to talk to. I let her vent, listened to how broken up she was, offered whatever comfort I couldn’t give, then sent her on her way. I was numb.
Back story here–I wasn’t close to my mother. I won’t pretend that we had the best relationship. In fact, she was abusive, didn’t acknowledge my son or husband, only my daugter, but she was my parent. I didn’t break down into tears or anything. As far as I am concerned, it’s a bit surreal, knowing that my mother’s passing will be one year ago this coming October. All I can say is “wow.”
After finding out that she had passed, I found out, AFTER THE FACT, that my stepfather had her cremated. To me, it seems really fast. He even had a quick funeral for her. I wasn’t advised of it That was saved for her dog friends and my sister. Okay. He was mad at me for not coming to see her in her final days. I didn’t know she was going to die! I didn’t know that I needed to see her in a hurry. NOBODY stressed that to me! The only thing I was told was that I probably should go see her.
I wanted to go see her. I wanted to read her obituary. I wanted to have something that said, “This was this person’s life. We are celebrating it, even though she’s no longer here.” I didn’t get that. Okay. I get that I screwed up. I get that. I really do. What I don’t get is why I didn’t even get a chance to attend her funeral? Why didn’t I get a chance to receive some of her belongings? Those were packed up and sent to the sister in California to “dole out.” I don’t even know what she had. At this point, I’m not sure I even give a shit. I wasn’t important enough to receive a phone call from my stepfather!! I had to receive it from a sister!!!
Sometime after that, my sister called me and asked me to help my stepfather find a lawyer. She wasn’t really going to but I as I live in Texas and he lives in Texas, she thought I would be able to help. (well, except for a certain condition she put on it…which turned me off to helping, so I let it go.)
In the four months since her passing, I’ve heard from him once, and that was just to ask if I’d heard from the sister. He apparently had sent her stuff, tried to help and she didn’t respond. He told me he wished I had gone to see her. He told me about getting rid of her truck and buying himself a new car. He wanted to talk to my sister. I sent her a message telling her to reach out to him. That’s all I could do.
I haven’t posted anything on Facebook about my mother’s passing. My Drumba family knew. My co-workers knew. My best friend and my family knew. I am not going to try to force tears to roll down my face. She is out of whatever pain and misery she was in. That much I know. I also know that there’s a lot I do NOT know about her final days/months/years, things that will never be mentioned to me. My sisters don’t talk to me. One of them unfriended me on Facebook a few years ago for defending my daughter. My immediate family is important to me. I love them and while I am not the best parent, I would hope that my kids know I love them and will be willing to accept that I’m who I am.
I’m frustrated, I’m angry and I’m sad.
I want to know what happened to my mother.
I would have liked *someone* to write an obituary for her. She loved her dogs. Couldn’t you have said that about her? She was not a good parent, but she had three children, not one, not two.
I don’t want to be excluded.