Mum managed to sort her out eventually (kind of) and we brought her back to ours for a few hours, mainly to warm her up and feed her.
My guilt arises from silly little things that shouldn't have bothered me, but they really hurt me quite a lot. She refused to take my arm on the walk to the car, and she usually does, and later she refused my help when trying to stand - I even thought she would fall over rather than accept my help! It hurt me to think that my aid wasn't good enough and I wondered what did I do to warrant being treated like that?
For some reason I get the distinct impression that she doesn't like me very much, I know she has never taken to my Mum (she never saw that she was good enough for my Dad) and I wonder if that is the reason she has never liked me. I'm not close to her, she has never let me be, and as much as I'd like to help something always holds me back as I know she doesn't want my help. My Grandad never liked me either, and as soon as I got past a child he seemed to practically ignore me, at least I don't remember him being anything other than civil - there was never any affection shown to me, by either of my paternal grandparents, ever!
Part of me wants to help, but a greater part of me thinks, why should I? All four of her kids are alive, and although my Dad can't help, the other three could (although to give my youngest uncle and my aunt their due they do see her and spend time with her, her second son can't be bothered anymore!)
I was writing my journal earlier and I suddenly realised that if she were to die that I wouldn't miss her. Isn't that a dreadful thing to think?! My only reasoning for it is that she has pushed me away all my life, and been emotionally distant with me, and now that relationship is irretrievably broken. I ask myself, why should I try and help someone that doesn't want my help? What would be the point?
And hence my feelings of guilt about not feeling guilty :o(
