Every Easter I thank the universe, reason and sanity that I have escaped, and no longer have to be a part of the wretched narcissistic catholic church with  all it's cruelty. 

I dreaded,  as a child those endless Easter rituals, fasting, rosary,  stations of the cross etc.etc. a colossal  waste of time spent perpetually  on our knees!

When my adopted Mother got old, and she became even more of a bully, it was very hard to take. But  for some reason I had this silly glimmer of an idea that maybe I could look after her, as she became more dependant, I suppose I thought we might be able to find some sort of connection in her last years. She was, after all the only "family" I had known, and I felt a duty towards her despite her cruelty and neglect. 

But as always, she wanted to do that on her terms, she wanted to come to my home, and take control, dominate my  children, dictate on everything, decide on every aspect of my life, despite the fact that I had been alone (and with no help) for quite a few years with my six children!  She even suggested we should sleep together for “warmth”, she and her tightly bonded sisters had always slept in each other's beds. As a child I often had one of them in my bed too, I never knew who would come to stay next, and my bedroom was never my own. I thought the idea hideous!

It didn’t ever happen, I am grateful to say,  I soon realised  it would have been disastrous!But fate took it out of her hands anyway,  she unfortunately had a fall, broke her hip, and ultimately  went quite senile.  
I  brought her to a nursing home near to me so that I could keep an eye on her. She was quite oblivious to who anyone was, but when she saw my face it always triggered her angrily barking out instructions! that was of course what she had always done! And she often talked about me - to me - even describing how she had “lost a grandson” I felt even more  hurt all the time.

However, when she was very ill and clearly nearing the end of her life, I thought, because of her faith, (although it stuck in my throat,) I should send for a priest. It was, after all what she would want. 

He came to see her, and he was a young Vietnamese man, she had never met him, but as soon as he entered the room, with his clerical dog collar, her face lit up in what can only be described as “rapture”, and her  head went automatically into that sickly  beatific pose “Yes Father , no Father , I am not worthy Father, Thankyou Father” and she rattled off all of the prayers, along with him.

He smiled and condescendingly  said to me “that just shows a lifetime of prayer” in an attempt to comfort me I suppose.

But I know it was just long term potentiation, and came actually from   a lifetime of indoctrination, bigotry, cruelty and abuse, and an absolute waste.