My mother was a narcissist all my life. I was never good enough. I was abused both mentally and physically. When I turned sixteen, she held over my head until I turned eighteen that I had to move out when I turned eighteen. Two weeks before my birthday, she reminded me of my moveout date, so I made a frantic look for a place to live. I move out on my birthday. Two months later I ran in to my mother at a store, and she asked me why I moved out. I told her, and her reply was, “I just wanted you to ask me to stay.” I didn’t talk to here for several years, until I got married and wanted my dad to give me away. Things had changed a bit, and we were amicable. Then my dad died two years after my wedding. I was crushed. For some reason, my mom didn’t seem affected by it at all. She just expected us kids to do all the things dad did for her. She was 50 years old! Why should we have to do her bidding? I sure wasn’t going to. After that I stopped calling and doing things for her. We did birthdays and Christmas, and “why don’t you call me!” Was her thing. She’d even play the game of “Did you just call me?” I’d say no.. then she say, “Well you should have!” Guilt trip after guilt trip. Well she got to be 80 and started falling once in awhile. Last Spring, she started falling at least once a month. Us kids started asking her about assisted living, or moving to a retirement home. No way she says. Well her fallings starts getting more often and one day she ends up with 15 stitches in her head. She then agrees to the retirement home. We get her all situated, but all she does is complain about it. Like she did with her house being too much to upkeep. She’s just not happy wherever she’s at. When she moved into the apt, I kept close tabs on her. Going over there at least once a week, and calling everyday. Last month I called and she didn’t pick up. I rushed over there, and sure enough, she had fallen and had been on the floor for 18 hours. We got her to the hospital to have her checked out, and I had to leave so my brother came to take her home. He helped her out of the car and one step out, she slipped and fell and broke her leg. Back to the hospital. She had surgery the next morning. Because of her being on the floor for so long, and the pain of the leg and not wanting to get up because of it, she developed pneumonia, and complications. She died 12 days later. I love my mom, because I love all people, and I don’t wish anyone ill will. My problem is this. I don’t know how to forgive her. It eats me up, more each day. I hate it. I’ve gone to counselor after counselor, looking for help, and I get nothing, but guilt. Maybe you have an answer I haven’t heard of yet. Thanks in advance.