My mother and father were divorced when i was about 1 year old. I lived with my mother and never got to see my dad. I later learned that he tried to see me, but when she scheduled a time for him to come over, she left the house with me so we were not home.

My childhood wasn't a happy one. My mother was married and divorced 4 times, all mariages adding up to about 5 years. I remember all of the men that came and went and all the drinking that had occured.

Growing up with an alcoholic parent is never easy in the best of circumstances. Besides the alcohol abuse there was mental and pysical abuse. Why did I never tell anyone? Scared I guess, and hoping someday she may change.

Things continued that way for many, many years. Then came my brother when I was 14 years old. I guess by that time I welcomed the beatings, because I knew that if I was getting it, my brother wasn't.

My mother and I never saw eye to eye. Some days would be good, then it would go back to normal. It was an almost everyday occurence, so ofcourse I thought that was normal. But every day of my life I vowed that when I had children, things would be different. And they have been, thank God.

Then came my husband, Gosh she hated him. I guess because he spoke his mind and she lost the control that she had over me. My husband and I have been together for 10 years, and happily married for 4 years.

When I told her that he had proposed she said it was the biggest mistake of my life, beside the 2 children that I had.

Days before my wedding, everything blew up! She never went to my wedding and we stopped talking for a few years. I had contacted her awhile after we stopped talking and she said she wanted things the way they were. In the meantime I had another child.

Last July on my first son's birthday, I went to his gravesite and left my mother a letter, knowing she would be there during the day and would see it. The next day she called me and we talked for hours. We cried, we laughed, and cried some more. We went to visit her with the 2 children and she was so happy, as was I.

In August she was diagnosed with cancer. They admitted her into the hospital a couple of weeks later on a friday to do further testing...... she passed away on the Monday.

My time with her was too short, but we did manage to say some things that should have been said a few years earlier. and she died knowing that I loved her and that I would keep an eye on, and be there for my brother. We also forgave each other for the past.

Moral of this story:

1. life is too short, make sure the people in your life know that you love them.
2. whatever is happening in your life, always keep the lines of communication open.
3. never hold grudges, you will only hurt yourself.