She's sick. And then, I find out it was cancer, and then I find out the cancer's still there. With my mom, it's never over, right?
Of course not. Because if worrying myself sick for a few months isn't bad enough, adopto-mom drops ANOTHER bomb on me today. Stupid me, I asked if maybe we could call my grandmother, to see if she knew anything.
Adopto-mom reminds me that she moved recently, we don't have her number. But Marilyn must be alive, Jenn would've called if she was dead. In fact, she spoke with Jenn a few months ago, and Jenn said that since she got our of the hospital, she's been 'off'. Adopto-mom explains that that's probably why she hasn't called, and why she didn't send a birthday card.
"off"? Basically, my mom forgot that I exist. Nine months, it's been NINE MONTHS, and she's not sick, she's not hurt, she alive and a little 'off'', just enough to, you know, forget her fourth-born daughter.
It hurts. I don't know why I even care anymore, why I expect enough of her to be constantly dissappointed, but I can hardly breathe. I've accepted that I wasn't important enough to take care of, and not worth the bother of fighting for. But a card, or a phone call? I'm not even worth remembering, now? I wish I didn't know her. What's the point? Fifteen years I've been visiting her off the books, trying to figure out where she fits into my life. And silly me, I can't stop crying, because my mom forgot me.
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