Lost relationships

So apparently I can always find something to blog about…

I have a love-hate relationship with one of my mom’s close friends. Her name is Laura, and I had kind of always known her. When I was about 10 she came to live with my mom and I, because she was going through a divorce and had no where else to go. I loved the fact that she was staying with us. She would bring me fun places, and cook me awesome tuna casseroles, and was maybe just one awesome stable person in my life.

I remember evenings when I would sneak into her room (which was right next to mine) only to find her sleeping with a book across her chest. I guess even since I was 10 I have felt that I need to take care of other people, so I would always put her book on the table next to her, pull up the covers, and kiss her forehead goodnight.

When she left, I was devastated. She hadn’t been staying with us too long, but I just really looked up to her. She had a real job, and always took me with her for “take your daughter to work” day. Once she left though, we remained close; as close as was possible. She moved with her new husband out of the cities. Soon though, my mom decided to move and we actually got to move very close to Laura. I would go over there a lot, sometimes baby sitting her new babies (I got to go with her to the hospital for her ultrasound once even!). But soon, my mother and her had a falling out (as with what happens with anyone I am able to get close to).

The divide was simple: she felt that my mom’s drinking had gotten out of control and she no longer wanted to support it. My mom’s view was obviously the opposite- she saw some “jealousy” or “anger” in Laura, because she was dating Laura’s ex from 30 years prior. Because I was maybe only 17 at the time, I still kind of just fell along with most of the things my mom said. But now, looking back, I know that her story is simply not the truth.

It saddens me to have lost someone that I was that close to and that I looked up to like an aunt, but at the same time I have a little bit of frustration with her for not doing anything to help my situation or protect me. But, then again, who knows. Maybe I was old enough to reach out for help if I ever needed it…

I remember once, I was probably 16 at the time, Laura called my private line. She wanted to let me know that my mom’s drinking had become a real problem and that she would always be there for me if I ever needed it… all I could do was cry. I wasn’t at a stage in my life where I could ask for help, mainly just because I couldn’t admit to myself that I was in a situation to need it…

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