@Mame,
Hi Gracie, enjoying reading this and other topics of yours. I'm sorry about your mother, but wonder why you're not seeing her. Just because she "left" doesn't mean you can't see her. Even if she lives out of state or another country, why don't you ever see her. Ask your father that.
I too lost my mother, at 4 years of age. She died. But I have no memory of her except flat-like pictures of her laying in bed, being carried into the house, etc. No feelings attached. My dad put us in a children's home and visited some. Good grief, don't feel sorry, I get so tired of that. A life is a life, nobody hurt any of us. Some things we did:
Scare each other half to death after dark so that I was afraid of the dark into my 30's. Ran away at about age 12. As we exited out the front getting to a highway we stumbled over a cow. When cars passed we'd hide in the ditch. We hit the first town by early morning, then walked around doing not much of anything, worrying why nobody seemed to be looking for us. Sure enough, they were and showed up pretty quick (someone called them). For that our punishment was slinging a yo-yo (kinda like a sickle) between 2 of our buildings, whacking down high weeds. We feasted on a storehouse full of raw onions (wow, but they were sweet).
We were babtized around 12, 13 or when we "came forward after a service." There was a painting of the River Jordan behind the little pit filled with water, and as I walked down the steps I couldn't stand looking at that man with big high fishing boots on. Then I stood there, about to laugh, and he plunged me under and I came out snorting and gasping. Maybe they should have had a rehearsal. So I ran to this back room, opened the door, and fell flat on my stomach (no door?). Three of us, we about choked walking home sopping wet and muddy.
These crazy things happened all the time, and we still get togather for reunions and laugh at all the nutty things we did. When younger, 6 - 9 or so, we constantly fought with the little boys that age. At school recess they would tip the merrygoround up in the air with us on the part in the air. Teased us, yanked our caps off. Geez, they were like so many little Beavus and Buttheads. It was our job to iron their shirts later on and we'd iron just the front and collar, fold them nicely. Too funny. We played jokes on each other constantly.
I started public school after dad remarried, sophomore in H.S. I was so happy could hardly stand it. My stepmom was not someone to talk with. I always did that with my sister, my friends and hers.