When my Dad got cancer, I was living in another state. I wanted to make sure I stayed in touch -- he wasn't much of a talker on the phone and I had only recently moved to Arizona, so I got out and took pictures of things. Sometimes I would write stories, sometimes I would write captions, trying to depict something like local history. All in all, I guess I ended up sending 30 or 40 DVDs over the years.
After Dad died, my aunt and I visited Mom, and I brought along a DVD to share. They're only 10-15 mins long. We were all sitting there watching when Mom's grandson drove up to wash his truck. She jumped up and ran out to help him. After the DVD ended, I pulled it out and shoved it back in my suitcase. I never made her another DVD again.
Today, she was organizing things in her house and she wondered out loud to me on the phone if she should get rid of them. Yeah, whatever. And why not, she will never watch them again.
Isn't it funny how its the little things that can create so much ill feelings. I'm sure she doesn't realize it. But that's my mom.
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