It was May, 2021, that I found out my mom was very sick with cancer. I’m not quite sure how long she had been sick when I was finally told. I was told by my dad. I asked him why my sister, Kristen, didn’t give me this news, as we were “friends”. His response was, “They are both evil [my mom and Kristen] and I want nothing do with either one of them,” and that’s verbatim. I was a little shocked by his words, for he’d never spoken that way, at least of my sister.
It took me a minute to figure out why she had asked my dad not to tell me my mother was sick. He had known for two weeks prior to telling me. She wanted to make sure my mother “affirmed” her 2009 will (which I knew nothing about) that disinherited me. After my dear mother signed her new and “refreshed” will, apparently, then, I could be informed.
This all came together for me slowly, during my mother’s infirm and after her death.
Hindsight is 20/20, or, 4 million.
My mother’s money didn’t interest me in the slightest. I had given it no thought, none at all. However, here’s a little ditty:
In December of 2009, the day after Christmas or shortly thereafter, I arrived at my mom’s house as planned to help her clean up after the holiday. I did not go with my children and husband for Christmas Day because I was pretty sick with pancreatitis. I was sure I was dying.
I knocked on the door and was greeted by my step-dad, Norm. He lead me in to the house where my mother was standing at the kitchen counter, the very counter where she’d left notes my entire life that said things like, “Sunny, please empty the dishwasher. Love, MD” (which doesn’t mean Medical Doctor, but Mommy Dearest). As I stood at the other side of the counter facing her, she looks at me and says, “Sunny. You are the worst mother ever and I feel sorry for your children.” I looked at Norm and I looked around to see where the camera was because this had to be some sort of joke. It wasn’t. She then asked me to “get out of her house”. I was dumbfounded and punched in the gut (much like the gut punch I took when my older step-sister and I were reading her will for the fist time).
Norm ushered me to the door and I left, in shocked and sick tears. I drove to my friend Kim’s house down the street where I collapsed in her mother’s arms. Kim pulls up and wonders what on earth just happened. I told them what my mother said to me and they were in disbelief, as, of course, was I. None of it made sense. Just a couple of months prior, my sister and mother came to stay with me for the night to see my son’s play at the local Loomis theatre and everything went splendidly.
What I didn’t know was that in August of 2009, a handful of months before this memorable kitchen bad mom incident, she had signed a will disinheriting me, that, obviously, my sister knew well about. Let me explain…
Following the kitchen bad mom incident, I went to Kim’s. After shedding a few confused and devastated tears, I was off to find my sister and her husband who had taken their kids and my kids to a movie (remember, I was supposed to be at my mom’s hanging out and helping her).
I go to the movie theatre with swollen eyes still still filled with tears and found them all in the dark watching the movie. I wish I could remember what movie it was. I probably could with a little research but it’s entirely irrelevant. I walked up to the aisle they were sitting in. Kristen was on the end. She looked at me and right away knew that something real bad happened. She, for a split moment, had a “grin” going, but to me, at the time, it looked like something other than what it actually was. Now, looking back, her grin meant, “Oh my God! I’ve done it! My plan is working!”
Let me explain further:
I had no idea, at the time, my sister has Narcissistic Personality Disorder, DSM-V. I thought she was my friend and that my mother was the enemy. I had that all wrong…until my mother was dying.
The day of the kitchen bad mom incident and after I found my sister and family at the theatre, I told her I was going back to her house to wait for them. After the movie, they arrived back at her house. I wanted to go home. Go home and keep crying…and thinking…and wondering.
My sister, with sympathetic ears, asked me, “So what happened at mom’s, Sunny Bunny?” I explained to her what our mom said to me, those horrendous and hurtful words. She responded with, “Oh Sunny Bunny, that’s awful. I understand if you never want to talk to her again. If you never talk to her again, don’t worry because if she leaves you out of her will [for not talking to her], I’ll make sure you get half.” Now this is something that had never crossed my mind…until this moment. I naively said, “Really? Okay. That’d be great!” Wow. What a fool I was. Kristen knew exactly what she was doing. In fact, she orchestrated the entire incident by directing my mother to have the kitchen bad mom one-way “conversation” with me. Why, you ask? Because Kristen knew that a few months prior my mother disinherited me (I have not a doubt it was at Kristen’s evil behest). She had to make sure something hideous transpired to solidify her place with our mom. And she sure did. Now she can tell everyone when the time came to read my mom’s will, she could explain to people that I was disinherited because I didn’t talk to her, or hadn’t much since 2009. Kristen’s confab, now, is running wild.
All that time, since 2009 and up until our mom’s illness, I had no idea at all that Kristen was and is the mastermind behind it all, and most disturbingly, the two of them together were the master puppets of my sad and neglected heart and life.
Before I go, I want you to understand something: sisters, or siblings, with NPD DSM-V, who use their vulnerable sibling as their narcissistic supply, are extremely (understated) jealous of their supply. I mean neon green with envy, only it “appears” as though the opposite is true. I can assure you I was never jealous of Kristen. I was envious, for lack of a better word, that my mother favoured her and rejected me. This I never understood…until mom’s death and until it was too late. This pains me most of all. I couldn’t “save” my mother at the end. I wanted to. I tried. But I was forced, by physical assaults and threats, to leave my mom’s dying bedside. I did not want to leave her to die in the midst of all that evil. My mom didn’t want me to leave either, but by this time, she was completely powerless. It was heart-ripping, heart-breaking, heart-shattering. I cried every day during her infirm because I was not there with her for her journey home to G-d. I am so lucky and glad that I had the time I did, though. I thank G-d every day for those few amazing hours as I talked to her and rubbed her amazing pedicured and soft feet. I told her I loved her and that I am so thankful to be there with her for the limited, but incredibly meaningful, time that I was. One of my mom’s last sentiments to me was, “You’re a good daughter”, as I had one hand on her beautiful head and the other hand on her left hand over her belly. I hung my head at her middle and cried out, “Oh mommy.” My tears fell on both of us.
