I'm Glad My Mom Died

There’s something magical about this. It feels like so much is happening.

IT’S STRANGE HOW WE ALWAYS give big news to loved ones in a coma, as if a coma is just a thing that happens from a lack of something to be excited about in your life. Mom is in the ICU at the

The emotions are the problem, the words aren’t. Forcing emotions into a thing is uncomfortable in the first place, but then putting on those emotions for other people to see feels gross to me. It feels weak and vulnerable and naked. I don’t want people to see me like that.

home. Which is the main environment that influences your mental health. So why don’t we stay focused on the home?”

“Fine,” the guard interrupts Mom. It’s embarrassing when Mom rattles off her cancer story to people we don’t know who don’t seem to care, but I’ve gotta

My mom didn’t deserve her pedestal. She was a narcissist. She refused to admit she had any problems, despite how destructive those problems were to our entire family. My mom emotionally, mentally, and physically abused me in ways that will forever impact me.

Mom’s cancer falls under the category of things that we pretend don’t exist because they’re uncomfortable to talk about.

“Yeah. Actually, I have to bring over some fresh paperwork because it’s technically a principal role.” Mom’s almost shaking with joy. “How did this happen?” “Well, the little girl we hired wouldn’t take direction—she just kept smiling no matter how many times we told her to look sad. But not your daughter. She’s got a great sad face,” he laughs.

Sometimes I look at her and I just hate her. And then I hate myself for feeling that. I tell myself I’m ungrateful. I’m worthless without her. She’s everything to me. Then I swallow the feeling I wish I hadn’t had, tell her “I love you so much, Nonny Mommy,” and I move on, pretending that it never happened. I’ve pretended for my job for so long, an