Ordinarily, I was self-sufficient. I wasn’t one of those females who fell apart at the drop of a hat, but the night I lost Ryan and RJ was different. Suddenly, I wanted someone to take care of me but not my mother. She was the stereotypical woman during times of grief.
A few years prior a thug gunned down my father while on duty. Mom turned into a basket case. Anyone who came around us held her hand and spoke softly to her. People treated my mom as if she was as fragile as rice paper. I didn’t want that. If I called her, she’d show up ready to pamper me while lamenting about how she felt when Dad died.
My mother-in-law was no better. She dealt with death by shoving it under a rug. When she lost her parent, Mrs. King refused to face the facts. She kept acting as if her mom would come home any minute. The woman was as delusional as a schizophrenic serial killer.
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