By Stacey Conner. I don’t have an easy relationship with my daughter.
I didn’t understand how someone could be nice, charming, and in my mind adored by everyone, but threw snide comments at me often, sometimes as soon as people left the room.
I’ve had a lot of time to review the woman my mother was. A lot of time in which to feel angry with her, or in awe of her. I’ve adored her and despised her, even in death.