My Mother Died, Thank God Poem by Barbara Villabol

A sad reading indeed. Not to be praised for its content. But feelings were there and shared by the audience. A success in poetry. GW62

OMG Barbara this sounds exactly like my birth mother. All she could do was reprimand, yell, insult, and even though she never hit me, her words were like a leather strap on my bottom. My mother used every excuse in the book to deny me my happiness, and then to add insult to injury she had me sent to an institution. For what, I have no idea, but I guess she was embarrassed because I am transgendered. Everytime she called me a good boy, or introduced me as her son, I cried so much I just wanted to die right then and there. You have spoken the words I have been posting for a long time. Except for being from two different families, my mother was mirrored here in your poem. She died on Groundhog Day,1997, at the age of 68 of lung cancer. But just remember though, that in life she took her insecurities out on the ones she claimed she loved the most. My mother never loved me, and when she was on her death bed, she asked my sister to be in charge of the funeral arrangements. She told me she picked my sister ove rme, because I never called her, and I had messed up. Tell me, how does a 12 year old child mess up so bad that she has to be sent to an institution? Stay strong Barbara, because it is in our strength that we can heal. Hugs, Barbara