I remember the day you showed up at D's funeral, angrily informing everyone that you "wanted to see your son". Looking back on that day, it's bitterly ironic that you wanted to see him then, because your not wanting to see him when he was a child was exactly what put him in that casket. His lifelong anger issues culminating in his assault on your granddaughter, the destruction of his marriage, and his suicide were a DIRECT RESULT of the actions you took to ensure that you wouldn't see or hear him.
Locking him in his room, beating him if he made enough sound for you to notice his existence. Unlike V and me, he didn't repress the memories. He remembered all of it. That's why he was the way he was. His suicide was your fault.
That's the kind of mother you were. You coveted "having" children. You would rather have killed us than let someone else take us from you. But at the same time you resented the responsibility that came with us. You hated interacting with us, looking at us, hearing us. Not just when you were crazy, but it was your MO throughout your whole life. You wanted to party all night and sleep all day, and you would do anything to make sure you had that. Even if it meant neglecting and torturing your own children.
You ruined every child you ever had for life.
Did you know that they had to rehabilitate me to get me to speak again? To interact with the world again? I know you were busy partying it up in Jamaica or wherever while I was in the shelter at 3 years old and all, but did you even *know* about that? Or that they had to teach V to eat because you were too lazy to feed her properly?
If you had even a bare minimum of love for any of us, you would have never tried to regain custody of us. You knew what you were.
You never loved anyone in your life. Neither of your husbands or any of the men you were screwing on the side. Just people to be used and manipulate.
You were the victim of domestic violence multiple times. When your daughter got home with your ashes, she threw them in the trash and banished you to go haunt a landfill. And you know what? I don't think that's adequate punishment for what you did to us.
Even if I overcome the lifelong PTSD, I will never ever form a memory properly like others do. I'm crippled for life because of what you did to me.
You died so brain addled that you didn't even remember ever having had children. I feel cheated. You should have remembered it and despised yourself at least half as much as I do. You should have suffered as you made us suffer.
So goodbye and good riddance.