My father died l cried a little but not much, he hadn't been a good father.
My mother died at 92. I thought she would never go, she was determined to live to 100 and get a telegraph/birthday card from the queen.
She was invicable she would live forever!
Even though she had become frail she was still strong in mind and remarkably chipper. She had never suffered from depression she enjoyed her life.
(Which is why I do not believe all narcs are 'tortured souls' and all that crap, it's just not correct)

Anyway ok, this will sound harsh but I'd wanted her dead from the age of 7 when l realised she hated me. I thought I would be then adopted by a normal family and be happy and loved.

But nope. She just wouldn't go.

When she died l felt relief. Free at last.
Free from narcissistic mother. Free from my narcissistic golden child monster sister, a powerful dominating force and hightly toxic. Now mother was gone l wouldn't have to see Nsis any more.
Mother hated me, the chosen scapegoat. My life was s##t as a child. Unloved.

I hated the f**king b***h.

I seem to be in a minority as most people here still love their abusive parents. I don't understand that.
Stockholm syndrome?

Everyone's different l suppose.

Her adored Golden Child killed her in the end, otherwise she would still be here.


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