I haven’t spoken to my mother in nearly five years. Our relationship has always been tumultuous, and it only worsened as I transitioned through significant life milestones—graduating college, getting engaged, marrying, and welcoming my first child.
Before our final separation, there were intermittent periods of silence—sometimes a month, sometimes more. I often broke the silence out of guilt, hoping to mend our relationship. However, the last time we spoke was when I discovered I was pregnant. I reached out, yearning for her presence. After all, when a girl experiences prom, marriage, or childbirth, she typically wants her mother there. But my prom night was spent getting ready with friends instead of at home, and she dismissed my wedding dress shopping as “stupid,” opting not to attend. I thought that having a baby would change everything.
Unfortunately, it didn’t. Our relationship remained strained throughout my pregnancy, and the only time I saw her was at my baby shower. When my son was born, I received no congratulations—only a venomous rant about my decision to have my best friend in the delivery room. Despite her living out of state and choosing not to come for my son’s birth, she still found ways to reach out with negativity. I allowed her to meet my son, clinging to the hope that perhaps things would improve.
That meeting, however, marked the beginning of the end for us. Instead of drawing us closer, my new role as a mother became another target for her criticism. She criticized everything from my husband changing diapers to my breastfeeding choices, and even the use of hand sanitizer sent her into a rage.
My mother battled her own demons, and while her story isn’t solely mine to tell, my experiences shaped me. Our relationship grew increasingly strained after she began struggling with addiction when I turned 18. Watching her decline was heartbreaking. I have vivid memories of her falling asleep standing up in a store and having to pick up my younger brother from the police station while she was taken for involuntary mental health treatment. She romanticized her addiction, thinking she was part of something glamorous because of celebrities who struggled with similar issues.
These memories replay in my mind, but I don’t share them to harm her. Regardless of our issues, she is my only mother. Tragically, she passed away last month.
In the years following our estrangement, I searched for resources online but found mostly articles aimed at parents and often filled with judgments about children who cut ties with their parents. People would tell me, “That’s your mom! You should forgive her.” But there’s a limit to the pain one can endure before saying, “Enough.” The birth of my son marked the moment I decided to stand up for myself.
Once I firmly decided to sever ties, I often heard, “What if she dies? How will you feel?” That question loomed large. But I found my answer: Yes, you can live with that decision.
I learned of my mother’s passing from two different people simultaneously. Instinctively, I sought out my father, brothers, and family—not for my mother, but for myself and them.
The emotional aftermath of her death has been overwhelming. Losing a parent is deeply unsettling and alters your existence forever. Yet, I had already mourned my mother long before her death. After considerable therapy and sharing my story with friends and acquaintances, I can confidently say that not one of my feelings surrounding her death is regret.
I made the choice to end an abusive relationship. I embraced those who supported and cherished me, while letting go of those who hurt me. This decision was liberating yet heartbreaking. I mourn the fact that I didn’t speak with her the night before she passed and that she never knew my wonderful sons. At 1 and 5 years old, they are incredible beings who deserved a mother who could have been there for them. The hardest part of my grief is the absence of the mother I needed—the one I believe she wished she could have been.
I loved my mother deeply, but I realized I didn’t love myself enough to break free from her abuse until the moment I held my son in my arms. I knew I could not subject him to anything resembling the toxicity I endured. That realization marked the beginning of my freedom. If you are in a similar situation, remember: you are worthy, you are loved, and you deserve better.
As I reflect on the fact that my mother and I will never reconcile, I find peace. She was never the mother I needed, and perhaps now she is finally free from her struggles. Having my children has been a healing experience because I truly understand the depth of a mother’s love. Growing up, I was unaware of what that love felt like, but now loving my boys fiercely has been more healing than I could have ever anticipated.
I grew up in a seemingly perfect home that was, in reality, a battleground. Every night brought uncertainty. My mother was deeply wounded, and hurt people often hurt others. It’s painful to be harmed by someone who should love you unconditionally. But we cannot allow these destructive relationships to persist. Setting boundaries or cutting contact may be necessary. Sometimes, the only person you can save is yourself. So, prioritize your well-being. You are worth it.
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Summary:
This article explores the emotional complexities of dealing with the death of an estranged parent without regret. The author reflects on their challenging relationship with their mother, the painful choice to sever ties, and the impact of that decision. Ultimately, they emphasize the importance of prioritizing one’s well-being and recognizing that it’s possible to live without regret despite the loss.