A few months ago, I posted about losing my dad. About how I wasn’t really grieving the man here and now, but instead the dad of my dreams. ……. the daddy that hugged me unreservedly, who didn’t criticise me, or torment me …. or punish me for loving my mum.
I don’t have great parents … neither one is (or was in the case of dad) capable of seeing past their own needs and wants, to provide the unconditional love and support even an adult needs. I try to step into that role for my brother and sister …. that person at the end of the phone, who doesn’t try to solve their problems, but who is suitably indignant at the situation, and cares about how they feel. Because mum is hopeless at it.
I was hurt today. Hurt and humiliated. Tony is supportive, but I so badly want to call my mum. Not my real mum …. that dream mum, who makes me feel special and wonderful and loved. Its not fair.
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