My Mother…

…was (is?) brilliant, noble and wise.

She didn’t prefer me.

I finally figured out in the past few weeks that they had serious issues with my little sister. She wouldn’t eat. It was so bad that they were afraid she wouldn’t live.

She was also a little sweetheart.

I was a problem in a serious way and nobody knew what was wrong.

They chose to help my sister over me.

There was a generalized atmosphere of love in the family.

For instance, in England it is typical to use the word Love, instead of Dear, or other such appellations in calling to someone in other words she always called me “Lynne, Love,” around the house and elsewhere.

At the same time, I was also left alone a lot and at some times that went on much too long. I would entertain myself by playing the baby grand piano in the living room that was my father’s treasure. I taught myself classical, jazz, and current-day music–Simon and Garfunkel, and Hits of the 60’s, et cetera. I didn’t even realize that I was alone. I remember panicking one day as I sat on the living room couch alone in the house. with absolutely nowhere for my thoughts to go. It was a beautiful home. I was a lovely young woman.

It was a similar feeling to when I was standing on the stairs at the old house in New Providence looking for a pencil and I was holding one in my hand and I was panicking and I fell down the stairs. There was no one in the house. I remember the silence and that I didn’t notice it.

But, at other times my mother was there and she took me out places. Like the restaurant at the small department store, Altman’s, at the Mall before they built it up. And we would share a piece of cake. Or the toy store at the same mall to buy stuffed animals.

She was heavy but I still saw her as the most beautiful woman in the world.

She became distant after the ectopic pregnancy when I was five. I’ve said it before and I won’t belabor it again. The problem is that it was really serious how disabled I was and they thought that I was just a nuisance on purpose or something. I know that she tried to be patient and kind and that everything was still okay despite the Advocate and failing out of College until the psychologist in Summit stepped in and said, “Talk to me about your mother.” I realized at one point that she probably knew her from around town. She was Jewish and my mother hung around with a lot of Jewish women. She always gave me the benefit of the doubt–my mother. It was a dangerous situation for me and Sharon, the therapist, blew it up. My mother was patient all her life–just like me! Sharon blew it. It wasn’t malpractice exactly, it was substandard care. You can sue for that but it’s been such a long time. I didn’t realize that my mother was watching the whole time–FOR HELP TO COME AT LAST–FOR HER FOR ME!!! I’m just realizing this right now. Oh God this is horrible.

Hopkins is gonna get it.