My estranged mother, terminally ill, unexpectedly asked to move back into my home. I refused—”You didn’t raise me.” “You left.” She cried, saying I’m her only child.
Then yesterday, the police arrived. A neighbor had found her unresponsive on my front steps, suitcases beside her. She’d collapsed—possibly from fatigue or skipping her meds. Now she’s hospitalized. They asked if I’m her emergency contact; I said no.
I feel guilty—but I’ve grieved for the mother I never had longer than most grieve someone lost. I can’t welcome back someone who abandoned me first. Does that make me heartless?