My mother. Sometimes I honestly think she's worse than my father, she drank just like he did, just never quite to the extent that he did. I wonder about their relationship sometimes, like how they could even stand to look at each other. By the time I was facing my own wedding I was damn sure my parents didn't love each other, my father was good enough at pretending but it was like my mom had just given that up all together.
The last time I saw her she told me it was my responsibility to go find my father in Australia, I could easily blame her for being on that plane but I think I've finally gotten over the part of my life when I blamed my parents for everything. Not that I don't blame them but I'd like to think that I only blame when they are actually to blame. It's kind of funny, she blamed me for him leaving. She always blamed me for when he disappeared but this time she made sure I knew. She made sure that I had to look her in the eye and see that if something happened to him while he was gone, if he forgot his medicine that it would be my fault. She made sure I knew that if I didn't go she'd never forgive me.
As much as I hated my father, I think I always hated her more. As much as I loved her I hated her too. I can't help but blame her for the years she sat back and watched. I want to think the best of her that he'd just pushed her too far and she couldn't take it anymore; but she still just sat there while he told me I'd never be good enough. Told me I wasn't much of a man, she didn't even come to my wedding because she found something more important to do.
My mother was just a woman, I know that, but she could have been more of a mother.
