I should feel bad about this, but I don’t. Am I supposed to apologize for not feeling the same way? My mother would say I should. That nags at me, but when I open my mouth, the words won’t come out. I allow myself to think about her often, these days, and find myself asking whether or not she’d approve of certain things. Not that I’d ever really know how she’d treat me, now that I’m an adult, but I do the best I can with what she gave me while she was alive.
