Chapter 21 - MY MOTHER ASKS IF I HATE HER
Mother asked me after a supervised visit.
“Do you hate me?”
I almost said no.
Then chose truth.
“Sometimes.”
She nodded.
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
She laughed sadly.
“So both.”
“Yes.”
That was the thing she had failed to understand about Lowri.
Love is not exclusive by force.
A child can love a dead mother and future caregiver.
A son can love his mother and still restrict her.
A person can forgive part and not trust all.
Then Mother said:
“I thought if Lowri stayed attached to Carys, Thomasin would never have a chance.”
“She didn’t need to compete.”
“I know now.”
“Do you?”
She looked away.
“More than I did.”
Fair.
Then:
“I was afraid you would disappear into grief forever.”
“I almost did.”
“So I pushed.”
“Yes.”
“Too hard.”
“Yes.”
Then:
“And Carys saw that.”
“Yes.”
Mother cried.
No need comfort immediately.
Then:
“I hated that she was right about me.”
There.
That might have driven document concealment as much as anything.
Not wanting me to see Carys’s judgment.
Then I said:
“She wasn’t right about everything.”
Mother looked up.
“She thought you might never change.”
Did she? Maybe not. Careful.
“She left conditions, not permanent condemnation.”
That was true.
Mother could regain contact if circumstances changed.
Carys had written that.
Mother cried harder.
Not absolution.
Possibility.
Then Lowri called from counselor room:
“Grandma!”
Mother wiped face.
May you like
Went.
Relationship resumed in small pieces.
