Death is a Reckoning
My mom died in Jan 2023 and although I went no-contact with her in 2013 for the final time, it’s been difficult at times to process my feelings surrounding her death. When I reread Things I did and thought upon learning of of my mother’s death, the feelings are still raw.
When a child decides to sever contact with a parent, it is often done as a last resort. I’d spent years pleading to be seen and respected. Triangulation, lies, sabotage, emotional and financial abuse were regular occurrences. My decision came after numerous attempts at a reconciliation--one that respected my boundaries--ended with me heavily medicated for depression, anxiety, and C-PTSD. As a result of her general meanness, her untreated mental health issues, and her a possible personality disorder that further complicated things, I realized our relationship was unsalvageable. It was dangerous for my mental health and counterproductive to the safety I was creating with my chosen family. The choice was inevitable.
Often, I find myself mourning the loss of hope- the finality of death is a reckoning. Martha died at 89. I am 47. I have a lot of positive memories of my family from before I turned 13. After, there was a shift in our relationship and the good times are few and far between. Still, I try to remember the things I’ve learned even if the lessons were hard earned.
When Wendy Bird Press (shout out to Wendy Piersall, who has been so supportive of my writing journey) published my book, Civil Rights Then and Now, I wanted to share it with my mom. What writer doesn’t want their parents to share in their publishing success? I’d dedicated it to her, too. Acknowledging her influence when it comes to my love of learning, education, and books was important because it . By then, she was in the throes of dementia, living with my cousin, and no longer in my life. My heart longed for her praise. Approval. Love.
I’ve been the Black Sheep of the family for sometime although that title can also be shared by my sister, who had her own relationship with my mother. Although she and I are very different, one similarity we share is our desire for peace. I found that peace by living my truth- doing things for me, from love, instead of for love (sometimes, it takes a friend’s ability to put words to our emotions so we better understand them), and embracing that which makes me different. In doing so, I’m healing. I’m growing into myself in spite of the abuse I’ve endured at the hands of the person who was supposed to love me most.
It’s been over a year since she died. Acknowledging her death has freed me in ways that I cannot express and that its OK to feel grief but also relief is a struggle. One that I am fully embracing through writing, therapy, living, and loving the community I’ve built. To be in community with those you’ve chosen is to strengthen and enhance your life. This is my mission now.
Edited on 10/6/2026 to update links in 1st and 5th paragraphs.
First published on My Mercurial Nature.