My mother married an ephebophile when I was 6. He constantly made weird comments disguised as jokes and effortlessly groomed my mother to start being immune to his “humor” and inappropriate behavior, so by the time I was an adolescent, he could just outright start leering at me, giving me compliments that would have gotten him slapped by grown women, being possessive of me, and just generally being a scumbag out in the open.

Needless to say, by the time I graduated from college, I literally got on a plane and flew to the other side of the planet. Eventually I had the courage to confront my mom but she of course was too delusional to take any action other than to systematically turn all family against me, save for one sibling.

A few years ago, after ten years of being cancer-free (her recovery of course was no thanks to her strategically incompetent, bumbler of a husband), my mother was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. She died last year at home after suddenly being unable to breathe, with her piece of shit husband no doubt being too out of shape and unhealthy himself to properly perform CPR. Her last moments were spent with this disgusting human hovered over her. No comfort. No hope to hang onto. Just the same desolation she resigned herself to for the 30 years of their marriage.

My mom’s marriage cost her any chance at a real relationship with me, but it also required her to numb herself into oblivion. She may have died in 2020 but she essentially made herself dead to me nearly a decade before, and more than that, she gave up decades of her life to a toxic relationship with an alcoholic man. She lied to herself about everything. She lied to everyone who cared about her too. She was not able to be authentic with anyone. She never worked on her shit. She was desperately codependent and pretended that she enjoyed her miserable relationship.

Her husband lives on, now even more pathetic than before. His drinking is getting worse. He neglects the house. He is barely functioning. My half sister lives with him (temporary situation). She tells me every time we talk that he is spiraling, that our mother did so much for him and he essentially acts helpless without her. He can’t even get his shit together enough to provide a temporary sanctuary to the only child who loves him. This is the legacy my mother leaves behind for the child she did love.

There are worse things than to die alone.