in reply to @pkh3381 Thank you. I have been thinking about your post for the last hour, and found myself laying down with an ice pack, thinking about my parents and began feeling a bit tearful because your comment resonated with me. As a side bar, my sister just left having stopped by to pick up some baked goods I made for her, and also to drop off a gift for me. This time of year is especially difficult for her and I because our father died the day after Christmas many years ago, and she and I were with my mother when he passed. Even though this happened many years ago, sometimes it feels like he is dying all over again during the month of December.
I never particularly "loved" my parents while they were alive, and for good reason. However, it was not until my mother died at age 72 about twenty years ago, that I began to look more deeply into her life and began to understand why she was so miserable, and why she took her misery out on me. I even began to appreciate those "gifts" she gave to me such as a "green thumb" or a love for all things art and literature. I often say to my sister, "Mother would really love my garden and the way I have set up my apartment, or this book I am reading."
A therapist who met my mother one time during a counseling session years ago, took me aside later and said to me: "Your mother does not want you to be any happier than she is. Your mother is mentally ill." I remember feeling such relief upon hearing this because it was in a sense some kind of validation, if you will. Much later, I took great care of her when she was dying, as did my two sisters, however, I was given the most difficult task of her caregiving while she was in hospice, and that was administering her various medications anally when she got to the point where she was unable to swallow the medication. My mother died 6 weeks after being diagnosed with brain cancer, which was actually breast cancer that had come back and invaded her entire body, She had experienced 2 bouts of breast cancer, had a double mastectomy, and always feared that the cancer would return, and boy did it.
In any event, after she died I began to miss her and felt like an orphan even though we had never been close. She used to remind me that after I was born she went into terrible postpartum depression and that I was essentially passed around to all the women in our neighborhood, which probably explains why we never formed any kind of meaningful bond.
Knowing what I know now about my mother, her own childhood and marriage to a man that was not especially kind to her, I wish I had had the opportunity to "love" my mother as my sister's kids love her. After learning about some of the "family secrets" after she died, it dawned on me just how strong of a person she really must have been to have endured what she did being married to someone like my father. I felt sorry for her. Having said this, my mother did give me some great gifts, and while we never had any kind of meaningful relationship, I know that I am strong today because she was a very strong and independent woman herself. Troubled, but very strong and very smart. It is because of my mother that I actually have learned to like myself as I do today. Had I not experienced what I had growing up, I am not sure I would still be here today to tell this story. Interestingly enough, it was not until I became "sick" that I actually started to like myself and think that I am a pretty terrific person who many like. Of course my life has changed so drastically, and I have lost many "friends" on my journey to better health, but in some weird way I think that the strength my mother had was in some way passed on to me, if that makes sense. It may have taken me a lifetime to get to this point where I feel quite swell about who I am, what I can do and what I am unwilling to put up with, but I got here; and while my childhood memories are akin to a bad movie, they shaped me into the person I am today. I know many people who have had horrible childhoods, but still cling to those memories and blame their childhoods for this and that. I have overcome so much and believe that if not for my childhood, I would probably be some meek, miserable, self absorbed person unable to have compassion or a sense of humanity as I do now. So yes, we learn from our past, whether it be "good" or not. As a teenager I found others to fill the shoes of my mother, and developed some very close bonds with the parents of my friends, and this too helped me become less resentful of my past.
I think at some point a person has to look back and then let go, and that is what I have done.
Recently, my sister brought over a bag of photographs that my other sister had put aside for me. I call her the "non sister" because she has not spoken to me in 5 years, and has no intention of ever "mending fences" with me. Upon opening the bag of photographs, I was taken aback because they were all pictures of myself, no pictures of my parents. Upon asking my sister why I could not have a photograph of my parents, she said that my other sister was unwilling to part with any pictures she may have of my parents. Go figure. Maybe it is best I do not have a photo, but rather the good memories of my mother that I continue to cherish each day, especially during the month of December. Oh god, on that fateful day when my father died, my other sister had actually gone out shopping because she had to get out of the house. So, there I was alone with my mother when my dad "left." I remember my sister coming home, getting hysterical until I finally told her, "Don't you remember how much our dad liked to shop after Christmas? You were doing exactly what he wanted you to do and for a good reason." LOL.

Your comment to me today feels like a huge present. I cannot explain it any better. And guess what, the huge headache I had before my sister came over is now gone because your words : 1) helped me release some of this emotional pain I had about the holidays; and 2) caused me to think a lot more about my mother and the way she influenced my life in many positive ways, which is what I choose to remember about her now, photo or no photo. I know my mother loved me in the best way that she was able to do so, and that is enough for me now.

Thank you so much for reading this.