3nanny6, the love shared between me and my mother ran deeper than width of the distance between us, a distance that existed between us as a result of her reluctance to converse, to not provide her insight, or care enough to elaborate on how our family dynamic went from bad to begin with to worse, a responsibility that as a parent was hers to assume- She chose not to, despite the multitude of devastating circumstances that occurred, and she witnessed, as a result of her decision to forgo communication-
Our relationship didn't stagnate, it simply became increasingly distant as the years passed- We barely spoke, we exchanged cards- I'd visit with her sporadically, with my family- She was uncomfortable in my company- We both silently understood why- I wasn't just carrying my own baggage, I was carrying hers too-
Regardless of that fact, and the damage done, there was no bitterness, no regret, nothing so unforgivable to prevent me from loving her, endlessly, and being beside her when she died-