When we see abuse, or suspect it, who are the people who will look the other way?
My mother did. Who else matters?
She didn’t acknowledge it until 4 days before she died, the very last time she was able to speak. She said, “I am so sorry darling, it’s all my fault.” She cried uncontrollably.
Well of course it wasn’t but she had carried this burden until she was 92 years old, in the farthest recesses of her mind. It wasn’t until the actions taken by her step children to destroy me in order for them to take control of my mother’s estate that she spiraled down and into the realization of the consequences to her silence. They broke open the hornets nest, she couldn’t ignore them or put them back together, and she couldn’t live another moment with the knowledge of what she had neglected to do – protect her daughter.
I had completely forgiven her, I understood before reentering my mother’s life after many years absence. Didn’t change anything for her. I didn’t say anything, nor confront her. I had made the firm commitment to myself it was not necessary for me to heal. But what the HOUSTON CLAN did to me gnawed away at her until she couldn’t stand it a minute longer – she killed herself.
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