Memories of you and your final farewell

Begging you to not go out because if you did he would abuse me.  You never listened.  You said I was going through an “attachment phase”.

Running to you after Sarah’s funeral.  You shoved me away and I fell backwards onto the ground.

Spending Christmas with a foster family, missing you, while you went through your hell in the psych ward from losing your other daughter.

Teaching me to read by 3, always impressing the importance of books upon me.

Taking me back to the playground where a boy 5 years older had hit me, and slapping the hell out of him.

Spanking the hell out of ME with a wooden spoon, because I was a little kleptomaniac in Kindergarten and Grade 1.

You always shying away when I tried to cuddle.  You were never comfortable with physical affection.  You said you never had the maternal instinct.

Making my own school lunches because you were always sleeping in the morning.

Crawling into bed with you when I was scared and then lying stiff as a board, afraid to turn over because you would get so mad if I moved around and woke you up.

Hating you for moving us to Kamloops just when I was starting a promising modelling career in Vancouver.

Hating all of your boyfriends and second husband.  None of them wanted me, I was a liability.  I always told you they were no good, but you never listened.

Coming home from school to find you unconscious on the floor behind the couch.  Another overdose.

Always coming to my plays and being so proud of what a good actress I was.

Always telling me I could talk to you about ANYTHING, and being true to your word.

Crying together on the phone while you were locked away in the Tuberculosis clinic, afraid you weren’t going to beat the disease.

Being the “Cool Mom” to all of my friends

Taking me to the bar dancing with you and your friends when I was 15, getting me in by vouching I was 19, she was my Mother!

Teaching my friends and I how to mix drinks.

Getting a boyfriend who was only 22.  His friends were MY peer group.  You turned into a teenager.  Wait, wasn’t I supposed to be the teenager?!?!

Taking all of us to Vancouver to see Pink Floyd.

Listening to them argue about how to handle me and my teenage antics, he thought I was getting out of control.

Arguing more and more as you tried to turn into “Mom” instead of friend.  Too late.

Being so proud at being able to buy you a leather jacket and a star sapphire ring.  Reading later in your journal that you were ashamed to accept them because they came from “dirty money”

Coming home after being out all night.  You met me at the door with a roundhouse to the jaw.  SLAP. CRACK. SLAP.  Back and forth as hard as you could until I couldn’t see straight.  That was the day I moved out for good.  I was 16.

After not talking to you for a year, your boyfriend calls me to tell me you had overdosed, were in the ambulance and not breathing.

Sitting beside your hospital bed for 3 days while you were in a coma, listening to the “whoosh” of the machine that kept you breathing.

Escaping to Vancouver, happy to be leaving you and Kamloops behind.  You followed with Allan a year or so afterwards, and the real downward spiral began.

Begging to live with me for just a month or two until you saved up some money to get your own place.  I reluctantly agreed.

Refusing to move out after 3 months.  Asking what I was going to do about it?  I couldn’t MAKE you leave, you said.

Throwing a temper tantrum and starting to scream hysterically at the top of your lungs.  Scared the neighbors were going to call the police, I slapped you for the first and only time, to shock you out of it.

Escaping by leaving you there and moving in with my boyfriend.

Damaging relationship after relationship for me with your chokehold on me.  They always begged me to cut her off but I couldn’t.  All I could say was “She’s my Mother”.

Being so relieved when you moved to Alberta to live with your brother.

Realizing it was only getting worse as you continued your downward spiral into mental illness and addiction.

Calling 2 or 3 times a day, always a different person.  Filling me with dread every time, you sucked the energy out of me over the phone lines.  Fighting with Scott all the time over the ball and chain you were in our relationship.  You hated each other with a passion and tore me in two.

Repressing completely into a child.  Always lying, manipulating, demanding attention.

You told me you wished I had died instead of Sarah.  You apologized later, but there are some things you can’t take back.  That was the day my love for you finally died, leaving only duty.

You wanted to move back to the lower mainland.  I found you a nice bachelor apartment only 3 blocks from us.  You were happy to be able to spend so much time with Madeline.  You loved her and felt like it was a chance to do things right this time.

Spending a lot of time with each other, some of it to take care of you, sometimes we had wonderful spiritual conversations.

I finally left Scott and moved downtown.  You threw a fit because it was an hour and a half away by bus.  You told me I abandoned you.

The 2-3 phone calls a day resumed.  You constantly begged me for money to get things for your apartment.  I gave you thousands.

Driving me slowly insane with your neediness, your tantrums and manipulations.  I dreaded picking up the phone.  Everyone else in the family had cut you out of their lives, I was the only one left.

A phone call one day, you were hysterical and terrified you were going to have a heart attack, that something was wrong.  I told you to call an ambulance if you were that scared, but you wouldn’t give up until I agreed to come over.  Two hours later I arrived to find you just fine.  I was furious at being manipulated and left soon thereafter.  That was the last time I saw you.

An argument over the phone that night, you accusing me of not caring and throwing other hateful accusations at me.

The last phone call the next morning.  A message.  “Jenny I love you”.

I called you back but there was no answer.  3 days passed.  I told myself you were just being childish and in one of your moods, but I knew.  I knew.  You had tried to go so many times, if you wanted to go that badly, who was I to keep you here?  I had nothing left to give.

On the morning of the 4th day I called the police to check on you.  That afternoon there was a knock at my door.  I knew instantly.

You had taken 60 Demerol.  It took 3 days for you to die, for all your systems to shut down.  You finally died around 11PM the third day.  They told me you would have had irreversible brain damage even if they had found you much sooner.

I refused to view your body and had you cremated.

Your suicide letter said nothing about loving me, or asking for forgiveness.  Filled only with hateful words to the world you felt had failed you.

Cleaning out your computer, I found an email written to an internet friend only 3 days before overdosed.  You said you hated me and were only using me for money.  That you couldn’t wait until you had everything you needed so you could tell me to fuck off.

I felt guilty but deep inside I was relieved.  I was free of you.  I hoped you were finally happy and at peace.

I hate you

I love you

I’m glad your gone

I miss you

You were my Mother.