I lived with my mother. We had a two-room apartment. It belonged to my mother’s second husband. I don’t remember him. He died when I was very young. I don’t know anything about my biological father. We hardly communicated with my grandmother. She did not like my mother very much, she did not want to know about me. Recently, my mother made friends with the bottle and forgot about me. I often saw her drunk. I was ashamed of my mother. She shamed me all over the city.After finishing school, I went far away, entered the institute and got a job. I was glad that I would not see my mother anymore.
After the first year I came home. Our apartment was terrible. The picture made me feel nauseous. I had a big fight with my mother and said that I did not want to see her. During this time, my grandmother did not communicate with her daughter, did not even call. I left with a heavy heart. It was painful to see my mother in such a state. I sometimes called, but she rarely answered my calls. After studying, I returned to my hometown and it turned out that my mother died three years ago, she was buried by neighbors.
I came to my grandmother. She accused me of my mother’s death, saying that I left my mother alone, so she died alone. My grandmother forgot that she did not communicate with her daughter. It turns out that now I have no apartment, my grandmother sold it. When I asked what I should do now, she said that she was not interested. I found a place to live, my friend had a spare room. A year later I got married and now I have two children. Two days ago my grandmother called me. We had not communicated before. She remembered me because she is old and needs help. I refused her. I do not want to help the woman who deprived me of everything.
