I generally haven't written much of a very personal nature lately, because it's hard. The internets are judgmental. I want to share my stories because "putting it out there" makes sense to me.
The argument goes: you can write whatever you want on your blog. But by making it public, you are subjecting yourself to the opinion of others.
Generally, I have found that opinion to be good. But sometimes it's not. Sometimes, it's really quite awful and harsh. As follows:
I assume that most people who stop by and read here know that no entry can be the full story. These are all just snippets. I share what I can, but the depth and complexity of my life and my relationships does not lend itself to a couple blog entries.
You left your mom when she was in hospice? And you think you are an example of a "loving daughter?"
My mother had brain cancer and I never left her side even when she went into hospice. I moved from the Bay Area to Ohio after 25 years to be with her and take care of her.
Your post sickens me. You ran out on the last days of your mother's life, and you think a lotion bottle makes it good and erases your guilt? Shame on you. Just another self-centered person thinking of herself.
Does yours? Does anyone's?
It would take me hundreds of pages to describe the six weeks of my mother's tenure in hospice. To even scratch the surface of my relationship with her. To try in any way to capture what it was really like.
Anonymous 11:19, I cannot know the relationship you had with your mother, or what all informed your decision to move and be the model of a loving daughter. Just as you cannot know what informed my apparent failure to do so.
You are quite clearly a far better person than I am. I will merely take some solace in having provided a platform for you to illustrate your comparative goodness: you're welcome. Your comment otherwise had its intended effect. I hope that you and your self-righteousness are satisfied.