My Love, my Brighteyes.
It has been exactly seven years since the sudden death of my father, when I was thrust into the role of the sole caregiver of my mother, who was by then suffering from dementia and severe disability. As I was soon to find out, her health problems were partly caused by the continuous intake of sedatives and sleeping pills, which were practically force-fed to her by my abusive father, so that he could continue completely unchecked with his whoring and gambling.
The last few years of his life had been hellish for us both. You remember those endless phone calls, when we were trying so hard to make a living in a country that was falling financially and socially apart, where he was yelling and screaming at me, blaming me for all the mishaps in his life, that I had betrayed and abandoned him by marrying…
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