Four months. One third of a year. One-hundred eighteen days since my father went to sleep and didn't wake up again. Two-thousand eight-hundred thirty-two hours since my dad ended a twenty-one year battle with chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder and shuffled off this mortal coil for destinations unknown. One-hundred sixty-nine thousand nine-
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Comments 21
Tears.
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I'm glad that the historic sites are being preserved, but not sure what's supposed to be so damn scary about woefully misunderstood people, and the wretched conditions they were kept in. :-/
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It takes a lot of energy to keep up with her, but it's becoming more and more fun to do so.
It's nice to know that even after life's been crazy for a while, I can wander back over to the GR and find friendly faces and stimulating conversations.
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You, it seems you are addressing questions to your dad about whether knowing his mom had a mental illness, if it would have changed his feelings toward her? (if I read that wrong, I deeply apologize)
My mom is mentally ill and I did not realize it as a child, that that was behind her..cruelty.
It does change things and it doesn't. I do have more sympathy for her but it's still something to work though because, at the time, I was a child and she had all the power and I didn't understand why she so often chose to use power to hurt instead of give love. I am less bitter but I still have days of just..still hurt even though I kind of understand.
But I do not blame her for being mentally ill or use that fact against her. Knowing that was behind her actions is ultimately helpful.
::hugs:: It sounds like you are finding out a lot and it is..you have a good perspective on it.
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