Thanks Mom (not)

My mother died this weekend.

Am I grief stricken? No. I am furious.

My mother and I were long estranged. How long? 19 years. The estrangement was on her side (she stopped calling) but I wasn't sorry when it began. She was a terrible mother. But over the years I began to wonder why. Why didn't she sent a christmas card? Or a birthday present. Why didn't she call? I probably would have told her to shove off but still....I don't know.

About a week ago a member of her church called my father and said that my mother was dying. Her final wish was to speak to her daughters one last time. My father relayed this request to me and after careful thought I decided to grant a dying woman her final wish. Before calling I made sure that I was mentally and emotionally centered. That I wouldn't fly off the handle. That I would listen to what she had to say. It was all for nothing. My mother was already gone. Her body didn't know it yet, but her mind had fled.

The notes on her computer paint a picture of a woman who is scared for her life. According to the notes on her computer she believed that my father was stalking her with the intention of killing her (he wasn't). Her friends believe that is why she didn't call me. But that is a lie. Because she knew she was terminal three weeks before her death. She knew she was at the end and she still didn't call. Didn't want to face the music from a daughter who hadn't heard from her mother in almost twenty years.

I am furious with her for that. Furious I never got to have a coherant conversation with her. Furious that she didn't request that I be contacted until one of her last lucid days on this planet. Furious that the person she made this request of waited an additional four days to contact me. Furious that I now have all this anger inside of me and the person who deserves it is now beyond my reach. I guess that was her final gift to me. Anger.