I once had a mum and dad. At the age of four they were quite ordinary. When I got older, I became more aware of their behaviour. When I was 7 my mum got sick. She had cancer and then a nervous breakdown after her mum and dad died several weeks apart. At that point she was put into a psychiatric hospital for several months. My dad turned up to pick me up from school drunk, his face all cut open from where he had fallen. When my mum got out , she wasn’t the same. She disappeared from me and I was so angry. I used to throw tantrums, hit her, tell her that my head wanted her to die but that I didn’t want her to. I was suffering at that point from ptsd, ocd and depersonalisation. When my mum was sick and my dad couldn’t look after me I had to stay with my aunt and uncle. My uncle sexually abused me. When I told on him , I got a scooter to keep me quiet , to buy me off so I wouldn’t say anything further. I told my mum. She didn’t do anything. I got a letter from her not long ago to say she was so sorry- she was sick at the time. I understand and I forgive her. my mum started drinking, I remember I used to find bottles of wine all over the house. In cupboards; she would eat whole cloves of garlic to cover her breath. She was with my dad for 25+ years. It was an abusive relationship, he was mentally and physically horrible to her. I caught him trying to rape her when I was 15 so I called the police. I understand why my mum drank , she was trying to escape him. Then when she finally got the courage to leave him I was so proud of her. She found a small, sheltered accommodation, it was perfect for her. My dad continued as normal and eventually became sick. He died July 8th 2019 from pneumonia. my mum died May 16th 2020 from both pneumonia and something called Wernicke-Korsakoff which is an alcohol related illness. She suffered so much and it’s only just dawned on me that after everything this is what she died from. She fought her cancer, she fought her mental illness , she fought her epilepsy and her anemia. She fought to walk after she broke her ankle and had to have her ankle bolted up. I’m so hurt and angry that this - Alcohol is what she died from. She pickled herself to death. I expected it from my dad - but never my mum. I wish my anger could dissipate, that I could wholeheartedly understand why she did what she did and me empathic about it rather than angry. One day I will but right now all I can be is sad, bewildered at what the card has dealt and try to remember that she had an illness that she was not strong enough to fight.