Racine, Wisconsin
The whole four-hour drive north from my home in Wisconsin to the town where my mother lived in Upper Michigan, I tried to quell my rising sense of dread. I was glad I had not come alone, that I had my good friend and prayer partner, Marge, with me. Even so, the closer I got to Mom’s, the more I trembled.
I was 62, a happily married mother and grandma, recently retired from my job as secretary to a school principal. My husband, Ken, and I had built a wonderful life and family together. Yet in my mom’s presence, I often reverted to that frightened little girl who could do nothing right, the girl she’d branded a bad seed.
Mom had mental health issues and was unpredictable and abusive, sometimes violent. She had been like that all my life. As an adult, I had kept a safe distance
