Missing Her Voice
My Mom and I never had an easy relationship. It was tested strongly by her alcoholism, which I wasn't very patient with. January of 2011 after months of lying to me about her visible jaundice and organ swelling, she finally collapsed, and reached out to me. She quit drinking, but refused to go to the doctor. Around that time, she lost our family's property and had to move to Kansas and live with her Mother. They had an even sadder history than me and my Mom. My Grandmother always made it clear that Jesus was more important to her than her family, which reasonably never sat well with my Mom. When she moved to Kansas, I started talking to her several times a day. Just so she knew she had someone who loved her and was supporting her. The incredible irony of all of this is that my recovering alcoholic mother moved in with my clinically insane grandmother across the street from a liquor store. After 8 months of struggling to live together, my Mom started drinking again. I knew right away by the subject matter of our conversations. She had become hurtful and angry again. I would ask if she was ok and if she was feeling like she was going to drink again, but she insisted she wasn't. February of 2012, she called me belligerently drunk, slurring her words. "You're drunk right now, aren't you?" I asked her. "I don't drink FOR YOU!" She screamed at me. After a long, terrible screamfest, I told her to stop calling me. I couldn't handle the lying. I had been trying so hard to be there for her. O geez, I forgot to mention that I'm currently seven months pregnant with my second child, her tenth grandchild. So I cut my Mom from my life and ignored her the best I could for the sake of my mental health and the health of my unborn child. She came up to Washington for a visit and I refused to see her, because I wasn't going to give her impression that she could lie to me and I'd forgive her so easily. My siblings all ignored her drinking. They also got to see her, though. The last time I spoke to her, I told her what a selfish mother she'd been all of my life and that she was a lazy mooch. Last words I ever said to my mother, "You're a lazy f***ing mooch!" On April 22nd at 1 am central time, my lazy mooch of an alcoholic mother died from a vein bursting in her esophagus, caused by cirrhosis of the liver. As angry as I am with her for refusing to get better and essentially killing herself, I miss her so much. I miss her so so much. I want to hear her voice so badly. She never set up a voicemail, I don't have any videos. I can hear her inside of my head, but I just want to HEAR her. I can't decide who I hate more right now, me or her. I just really want to go back to her being sober and fun and loving. We were patching up 25 years of a bad relationship, and it felt so good. I miss the woman who became my best friend. I guess I'd rather be able to ignore her phone calls, waiting to not be pregnant so I can deal with her, than not be able to receive them at all.