Forgotten Hurts

I never really knew my mother when I was growing up. I remember her being there, but not as a parenting figure.. more as someone who simply filled the bedroom down the hallway from where my younger sister and I slept.
My Grandparents ( my mum's parents ) for all purposes and intent were more of my mum and dad to both myself and sister.. strange how time lets us see things a little more clearly, while other memories are faded. I find myself trying to fit ill formed puzzle pieces together so that the picture I have is complete - but the air is foggy and time has warped whatever dillusions and ideals I had about my childhood.
Certainly it wasn't an unhappy time in my life, but then again it wasn't as smooth as the outside world was allowed to believe. I have generally compared my family upbringing to a double sided mirror.
There was the calm, collected, happy family that every one else saw and then there were the arguments..the long silent nights waiting for mum to come back to the main house from one of her many outtings to the pubs. Where she would entertain herself with alcohol, illicit drugs and more often than not, drugs. I wish I could say I've forgiven her for all those years without her in our lives - that I can accept the hollow shell of a person she presented to myself and my little sister as this caring, loving, parent. But I can't, I would not only be lying to my own memories, but to the reality of what carved me into the parent, friend and sister I am now.

Still, in having said all the above when she ( my Mother ) appeared out of the blue at my house on Saturday afternoon, while it was surely awkward and uneasy.. it's also good to know she has finally met AND acknowledged her suriving grandchildren. I don't want anything from her - but then even if I did, I don't know if I'd be foolish enough to think she would actually fulfill those parts of our relationship that have been missing for so many years