They talked a lot. She called me even. A few days before she said that she doesn't like visiting her. That she doesn't care and that she doesn't want to hear about her. She doesn't like her, she said.
And the other one was saying the same. How the words can spoil. That no one visits her and how lonely that she is. She was well over her eighties and although, back then, I still thought of visiting, I couldn't. There were no flights. None!
And she used that fact. Used it against and for the opportunity to impose her hat in the inheritance rights. Her friend helped her. The judge. People say they'd spit her in her righteous face. She had nothing to loose and everything to gain.
As her mother got a new partner after the father passed away a year earlier. And that partner was a suspicious type. Not the one you'd trust. And our mother, the same. And the circumstances were working in their favour. Three against one.
Life isn't about circumstances. Only about the moments. About the particular moments. And no fact will change that. Therefore forgiveness exists. As well as reciprocity.
So she lied. And kept secrets. She had nothing to loose and everything to gain.
What's that about?
Bloody mary it's about. It doesn't end. Stupidity with head and tail.