I just found on my mother died on July 30th.
We were NOT close. We only spoke three or four times a year, and two of those times were always on our birthdays. When she didn’t call me on my birthday I became suspicious. Her birthday is December 26th, and she didn’t like it when I forgot to call her.
I had previously spoken to her in early July and she said she had late-stage COPD from smoking her whole life. (My childhood asthma and nine bouts with pneumonia are also a testament to her smoking.) But she always, ALWAYS complained about her health. And everything else in life.
Her number had been disconnected, so I did some googling and found her obit.
Oddly I was not listed as next of kin or even “survived by”, which may be why I was not notified. A final “fuck you” from my hated step-father?
I am surprised – and saddened – that he managed to outlive her. He’s 13 years older than she was, which would put him around 83 now. He was dealing with stage 4 cancer like a decade ago. He mentally abused me throughout my teen years until I eventually bailed and went to live with my father, which I’m sure was his plan all along.
Jack was the main reason I was not close to my mother, but the other reason was her bizarre disinterest in her grandchildren. I’ve always thought that even if you don’t like kids anymore, being a grandparent can’t be that hard. Just show up for Thanksgiving for a few hours once year – how hard can it be? Too hard for my mother.
When my first son was born, I and my wife at the time drove down to my mother’s house in Tiverton RI so she could see him. She was, too all appearances, overjoyed. My grandmother was supposed to come visit as well. She lived in Middletown, on the island. Perhaps presaging what was to come, she didn’t show. Apparently she was worried about the “high winds” on the bridge. This is of course a massive load of bullshit. When I pressed my mother on it later she said that, well, grandma didn’t like my then wife. So I guess that makes it OK?
Despite numerous attempts to get my mother to see her grandkids again, it would take about seven years. By now I had also had my daughter, who was around five, and whom she had never met. (I had also divorced my first wife, so that excuse was no longer available to her.) I convinced her to come visit at my dad’s house in MA, an in-between location and she did actually come and see her grandson for the first time in seven years, and her granddaughter for the first time ever. Unfortunately my dad had just gotten a puppy, so my mother spent the whole visit coddling the puppy and pretty much ignoring her grandkids.
I arranged another visit a few years later. We were at my dad’s RI vacation house, so it should have been a shorter drive for her. We had to pull the kids out of activities and go out of our way to accommodate my mother. Then, at the last minute she called and said that she would not be coming because she had a headache.
Shortly after this she moved to Florida and we would never see her again.
My parents got divorced when I was eight. When I asked them why I was an only child, they each blamed the other. But it was my dad who went the distance of getting a vasectomy. That’s not something one does lightly. Sure seems like he was the one who didn’t want anymore kids. But then he was great with my kids and would even take them for weeks over the summer. He genuinely enjoyed his grandkids.
When my grandmother died (my mother’s mother), I think I also found out about that well after the fact. I was living in NH at the time. Turns out my mother spent months in RI working on settling the estate and assets and made no effort to setup a visit or even tell me she was in the area.
When I was little my mother and I fought a lot. Well, not “fought.” She would yell at me a lot. Or lecture me. I remember she would yell / lecture me for hours, until my legs and feet hurt. I don’t really remember what about. I do remember one time she got pissed and threw my Star Bird across the room, breaking it. That was also the time the neighbors called the cops on her / us. Apparently it’s instinctive for a child to lie to the cops about their parent’s abuse, because that’s what I did.
I remember the time she accused me of being gay, probably on suggestions from my hated step-father. That was awesome. Sorry mom, not gay. Just an introvert. Did anyone even know what an introvert was in the mid 80s?
It wasn’t all terrible, of course. For Christmas over the years I got an Intellivision, a Vic20 and later a C=128. I think the kindest thing she ever did for me was one day out of the blue when she got home from work she gave me Microsurgeon for the Intellivision. Just a random gift out of the blue. To this day I try to give random, unexpected gifts to the people in my life.
So what do I do now? Do I want any of her stuff? I don’t think so. Our lives have been so separate for so long, the only thing I could want would be maybe childhood pictures. But I’m not big on pictures anyway. I would be mostly interested in my grandparent’s WW2 memorabilia… but enough to establish contact with my hated step-father, fly across country (in a pandemic), and then drive to bumbfuck Florida? Nope.
I suppose when Jack dies his kids get it all. I have not spoken to them in 40 years.
So I guess… nothing really changes. Except now I don’t have to call anyone on December 26th.
Thanks for reading. And I hope if anyone posts in this thread about their parents it’s much more positive and uplifting than this post has been.