Okay, I'll talk a little

Okay, I’ll talk a little bit about Mom. It’s time. She was a pack of contradictions. Not so much the woman herself, but explaining her to strangers can be difficult. If I tell you she was schizophrenic, and had Multiple-Personality disorder, you would probably assume she was a bad mother. She wasn’t. If I told you she was a lesbian, you would probably make another set of assumptions. Those may or may not be true.

Yes, there was a lot of care-taking when it came to Mom’s illnesses. There was a lot of indulgence. When she told you about the water-powered engine she was working on with Senator Kennedy, you did a smile and nod. Especially when she pointed out the oil company spies parked outside the house.

Suicide watches were a way of life for me as a teenager. The members of the family took watch times, and checked in on a regular basis. That’s just the way it was.

Sometimes her delusions became so overpowering that she became frightened even of us. She once stalked the house for over a week, never coming in. My brother finally found her sleeping by the garbage cans and brought her in.

Did all that make her a bad mother? Do I resent her for her faults? No, because the gifts she gave to me far outweigh those things.

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