“Not even a ‘Hello?…you look good?…you look like shit…? nothing? She tried to take you away from *US*?!”

When my dad died, three people came to the funeral with me. That was Tee, Drew, and Rob. At that point, I hadn’t spoken to my mother for a few years, hadn’t seen her, and was really happy that way. I knew she’d be at the funeral, and I asked for some moral support. Tee said, “Sure! I always wanted to know what the face of evil looks like!” So we went.

So I’m standing there, in the pew with Rob, Drew and Tee, trying to mind my own business and not be noticed, when my mother sees me and walks back to me, annoyed as hell by the walk, and grits through her teeth and says, “would you at LEAST come sit with the FAMILY!” I looked at her like she was crazy (she was) and I said, “I’m WITH my family.” She left me alone.

Drew looked at me and said, “that’s it? That’s how she starts the conversation? Not even a ‘nice to see you?’ And her first act is to try to separate you from US?!? If it wasn’t your mom and a funeral, I would have told her off right there!”

Right on, little brother. Because if he hadn’t said that, I wouldn’t even have noticed it. I’m so used to the dysfunctional pattern that I didn’t notice that she didn’t say hello.

But I sure as shit noticed it five years later when she was in the hospital. I hadn’t spoken to her for another five years, and when I walked in her first words were to order me around, and demand to know what I did to her car. “Do you know,” I said, “that you haven’t even said hello to me?”

Funny, that. It was the first REAL conversation we had had in about a decade. It didn’t go much further than that, either because she was still being evil to me. But at least I knew enough to ask to be treated with dignity, hospital or no.

Thanks, Drew.