True Confessions

I hate visiting my mother. Not because I don't care, but because I do. I go because I should and (at least for now) she still knows me. But this is not really my mother. This is not the woman I grew up with and it is painful to watch this deterioration. The woman I grew up with had a quick wit and a great memory and a humorous inclination. This woman is not her and I don't particularly care to see her. If I would stop, of course, my relatives would once again turn against me as a heartless fiend as they did when my sister spread her lies. Not that this would really hurt me. I generally have stopped caring years ago what my relatives feel about me. But the bullshit would slosh over to my family since most of them are so judgemental, and that would make me angry and probably start some things I can do without for now. So I do my duty periodically by seeing this woman who looks like my mom, but isn't really anymore.