A recent post here made me think a lot about my own journey with my parents so I thought I would share. I had to let my parents go and it took a long time and is even continuning now they are dead.
My mom almost died when I was born. After my birth she had several botched surgeries to repair the damage done during childbirth and almost died again from those. I was not around her for about 18 months. My dad and an elderly babysitter raised me during those times. My mom did not bond with me. She probably had a personality disorder.
She could be a good mother at times, funny and creative, entertaining and charming. She was an excellent cook and we had great holidays. Perfect decorations. Perfect presents.
She was also an alchoholic. The reason I am familiar with the tenants of AA is that I spent many years going to meetings of AA and Adult Children of Alchoholics. I worked the steps myself. This of course, after I grew up, because no one acknowledged her problem at any time. Very typical. Dad was her enabler.
Dad was somewhat of a coward while yet being a bully. He was a screamer at mom and at us kids. He was a hard worker both at his job and at home. He was absent from me emotionally. That was OK because I hated his screaming so much that I would withdraw and try to have nothing to do with him.
They both neglected my medical needs.
They both preferred my two sisters to myself, especially my younger sister. My younger sister is a bully and a coward like my dad. My older sister is abandoning like my mom. Both suck and I have little or nothing to do with them. My younger sister is an alchoholic and I think my older sister may be borderline.
My parents are dead now. I did some thinking recently and had to realize that as parents they were horrible. They were bullies, overly strict, favored one child, and were emotionally unavailable.
If I met them today as adults, I wouldn't like them. I would find him to be a bastard and my mom superficial and histrionic. I would find them selfish and clueless and awful as parents. LIfe was always about them.
So as an adult I was relieved when I realized I didn't have to like them anymore. I didn't even have to love them. I don't love them. And that is OK. Sometimes I miss what is cute about them like the Xmas decorations or my dad singing and doing a little jig in the living room (when he had a shot of whiskey) but there is more bad than good. I let them go completely along with my toxic sisters.