You ever just... stop, after something big is over, and suddenly you feel like a ghost in your own house? Like, the noise stops, the constant *doing* stops, and then it's just you. And it's QUIET. That's kinda where I'm at. My mom, she passed a few months back. And you think you're ready, right? You've been on this road for YEARS. The doctor visits, the meds, the food she wouldn't eat, the bath she wouldn't take. And man, the bath thing. It got so bad at the end. Every. Single. Day. Was a fight. "Just let me help you, Mom." "I don't need help, I'm fine!" But she wasn't. You know that smell? When someone just… isn't taking care of themselves anymore? It breaks your heart, but it also just... makes you so mad. Like, why are you making this harder? Why can't you just cooperate for FIVE MINUTES? There were times I'd stand there, clenching my fists, feeling this red hot ANGER building up in my chest. And I'd have to walk away, just for a second, so I didn't say something I'd regret. Or do something I'd regret. Not like hitting her, obviously, but just… you know. That feeling like you're gonna explode. And now she's gone. And I feel like the WORST human for ever feeling that anger. Like, how dare I? This woman, my mother, who literally gave me everything. And I was mad at her for being old and sick. For not wanting to be clean. It feels so small and petty now. So unbelievably selfish. But it felt so BIG then. It felt like it was going to swallow me whole. Like I was going to crack from the pressure. Now it's just this empty space where all that pressure used to be. And sometimes, late at night, I just replay those moments. The yelling (mine), the stubborn silence (hers). And I wonder if she knew. If she could feel my resentment. And that just… really sucks. Because I loved her. So much. But I hated those last few years. I hated being her keeper. And I hate myself for it now. What kind of daughter am I? Just a mess, I guess. A tired, angry mess. Even now. Still angry. But at myself this time. You know, everyone says "grief is complicated." They don't tell you it's a mix of grief and relief and this deep, gut-wrenching shame for the relief. Like, you're free, but the cost was your parent. And you kinda wished for it sometimes. The freedom, I mean. Ugh. I shouldn't even be writing this down. No one wants to hear that. I just… needed to type it, I guess. Into the void. So no one knows it's me. Hope that's okay.