My mother, Rita, passed on the 30th of 2020 in my home. With the pandemic, we were not able to visit her in the hospital. So, my baby brother Michael and I decided to bring her home to my house to stand vigil and take care of her in her last days. She was so frail. She was confused about coming to my home, and she was agitated because she knew there was nothing the doctors could do. She was going to die. I had no time for grieving; I just took care of her and managed her pain. I washed her hair, her body, put lotion all over her, massaged her feet and hands…I wanted her to be pain-free. She was so afraid. She told my daughter not to let her sleep because she was afraid she would never wake up. I cued my siblings to sit with her, talk to her, talk around her, and bring up good memories for her to listen to. I read that the senses of touch and hearing were the last to go. I hoped it would ease her mind. She was going rapidly due to pneumonia, infection in her abdomen, and kidney failure. It was a matter of time; we had no idea how long she would last. She was on oxygen, which I later realized was keeping her alive longer. We all agreed to take her off of the oxygen, and I knew it was going to be over. At this time, my niece Sage, who is ten years of age, was bouncing around in the other room. I had to leave my dying mother to go yell at her twice. Rita tried to save my sister and her daughter. Her guilt she wore like an old, familiar coat. She wrapped herself in it and lamented about the future for my sister and her daughter. How ironic that in Rita’s last moments, I was robbed of the experience by these two. I just did what I had to, managed the crazy, and tried to give my mother dignity. Fucking unbelievable. Everyone remembers the last words spoken with their parents…my mother’s last words? She called me a bitch. I was the bitch who peripherally helped her, peripherally helped my sister…I took my mother in, I tried so hard to do the right thing, and she called me a bitch. I always feel spirit…I do not feel my mother. I am not sure why, I just don’t feel her. I felt my father, my grandmother, many others…not Rita. The mother/daughter bond is complete bullshit. I was greatly misunderstood and disliked by my mother and my sister because I was different than them. So be it. I am not ashamed of who I am…not anymore. Rita, I hope you are at peace, I hope you are happy and safe, and I hope you have no more guilt. I am relieved for your passing, you were never happy here on Earth. It was hard for me to watch as a child. I could not manage that responsibility, and I felt you did not want any of us, either. You just wanted to go to heaven, check out, be free from this cold world that oppressed you and made you suffer. I learned to try to be the buffer for your pain, and you treated me like the one who wounded you. I cannot take on that responsibility anymore. I am free now because you are free from this world. I am sort of numb, and I am okay with that. I am done feeling shame for not saving you…I know it is not my cross to bear. God has called you home. I pray that we will meet in the afterlife, where there is no fear, anger, disappointment, sadness, or hopelessness. Lesson learned…