Why do some people have loving parents and some do not?

We just… get the parents we get. Sometimes we get people who love their kids fiercely, who wanted them from the moment they were conceived… and sometimes, we don’t.

My father died, years ago, but my mother is still around, and still resents the fact that I’m not heterosexually married, with 2.6 perfect children, fulfilling the fantasy life she’s certain “god told her” was the way my life was going to unfold.

I’m not crying in my beer at the unfairness of all of this. Nobody ever promised me parents who’d actually love me, or who’d care to be in my life.

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She never should have had kids. At all. She’s told me as much. (Back when we still spoke, some, she told me once she’d rather look at pictures of me as a kid, than try to have a relationship with me as an adult. Well. Fine. As you wish.)

It’s taken years, but I’m just… forced to accept that my parents were tall children, when they married, and they were utterly unprepared to be married, to have children, or really, much else.

I have no doubt that she “loves” me, after a fashion. Sort of.

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Because some parents shouldn’t ever have been parents.

She resents me for not being who she required me to be.

It’s just that the kind of “love” she’s capable of just… isn’t enough.

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