Mom, I need some distance for a while. Unfortunately,
when you call, I am filled with anxiety, and I have
a meltdown over it. I’m calling friends and strategizing
how I am going to talk to you. I am having a hard
time forgiving what happened last year. I’m not
sure that I can forgive it, as much as I try. In part
because of the failure to recognize everything I
already did for my Dad’s memorial and then
marginalized and maligned against advocating
for him while everyone to see him open his eye again.
You chose to listen to the least informed person
in the room, who was distracted with her own
marital discord, making perfunctory displays
and lecturing me about something she
knew nothing about.
Defending myself at my Dad’s deathbed
was an excruciating betrayal as are the
alternative reasons that are offered for why I fled.
I didn’t leave bc it was so hard for me to see him pass;
I left because of what you said and what she did.
I was being attacked, and it wasn’t safe for me to grieve with you,
and later, not safe for me to drive back.
When I did return, I was being punished,
and the last gift I made for my Dad has an alternative
version by someone who didn’t know him. I haven’t
had a chance to really grieve losing him, bc
I’ve replayed this useless drama surrounding it.
I’m going to block your number for a while for my
own peace of mind. When I am able to contact you
again, I will. I hope you understand.