I loved my mother but she was difficult. She found relationships impossible and I found her impossible. She was very critical and hard work but I also loved her and liked her. Perhaps she was a narcissist, I’m not sure because she was unknowable in lots of ways. I moved to another country 25 years ago and our relationship became increasingly difficult. When I would ring her, she would sigh and say ‘oh hello, Siucra’. My sister and I were made executors and beneficiaries of my uncle’s will and she took her other sibling’s side. In the end we were estranged and life was so much easier. But she died, falling off a table, changing a lightbulb and she was eventually found by neighbours. I’m now in my home town, and going to her house in the morning. I’m full of regrets, hating how proud and stubborn I was. How do I forgive myself? Why couldn’t I have just sucked it up?