At 11, the writer’s mother left the family for another man, leaving her father to raise her alone. Now 29, she lives in the same house, but her father has passed away. Out of nowhere, her estranged mother calls, saying she is terminally ill and wants to “fix things.” She asks to move in, calling it the house she “raised” her daughter in. The writer replies sharply that she wasn’t raised by her.
The next day, police show up after a neighbor reports an unresponsive woman on the porch. It’s her mother, sitting for hours with suitcases, possibly collapsed from exhaustion or missing medication. She’s taken to the hospital, but when asked if she’s the emergency contact, the daughter says no.
Though guilt tugs at her, the hurt runs deep. “I’ve already spent most of my life mourning the loss of my mother — not because she died, but because she abandoned me.”
She wonders: does refusing her now make her heartless?
