When my first child was born my mother told me not to expect her to be a babysitting grandmother. I never asked. Years went by and she asked in tears why I never asked her to babysit. It was frustrating and made me crazy. In the end, she had dementia and I could not attend her funeral because I could not face my pedophile brother. Despite the fact that my mother was an asshole to me I still respected her as my mother. She gave birth to me and a basic foundation of kindness and consideration. She is part of me and will live on within me. Her genes with my father’s are what molded me. I would not be here without her so I appreciate her sacrifices, the conflict she endured, her creativity, her cooking, and the woman she tried to be. I hated her at times, but I know now what she went through. Although Peter was physically abusive only a few times, mental and emotional abuse was far worse. I still keep my mother in my prayers.