[About My Mother | ep48] In the story my mother created, I became the villain

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After paying my final respects to my late aunt and turning around, I noticed my mother talking intently with my aunt's husband.
My younger sister, who was nearby, signaled to me with her eyes.
I had a bad feeling, so I walked over and listened to the conversation.

“It must have been so hard with it being so sudden. When I got the call, I was so flustered that I said something strange, and I’m sorry. After I hung up, I was scolded terribly by Softly. She said, ‘How could you decide things on your own?’ Oh, getting old is no good. I’m always getting scolded by my daughter... I wanted to come here too, but I didn’t know what Softly would say.”

I have almost never scolded my mother.

In the few times I have, I certainly spoke firmly that one time.
That is exactly why I understood.



My mother had come here to tell this story.
She was acting this way in front of our relatives.
Under the guise of an apology, she was trying to paint me as the villain.

It wasn't just once.
Until we left, my mother kept saying over and over again that she had been “scolded.”

My relatives have no way of knowing what kind of environment I grew up in.
No matter what I said here, it would only reinforce the “story” my mother had created.

Unspeakable emotions welled up inside me,

But they quickly cooled down.



I just watched the scene,

feeling as if I were observing it from somewhere far away.
At that moment,
my sister spoke up.


“It’s surprising to wait eight days for a cremation. It’s scary, like they might rot.”

I instinctively signaled with my eyes for her to stop.



But it didn't reach her.
I stopped trying to stop her.



I turned back to my aunt's husband and began discussing arrangements, saying, “I can’t attend the funeral, but I would like to send funeral flowers.”

Beside me, my mother kept piling on words to my uncle, who had just lost his wife: “It was the same for me, but time heals all wounds. It’s okay, it’s okay. Father used to say things like this when he was alive, didn't he... Father was...”



Embarrassing.



That was all it was.
The fact that I had no choice but to acknowledge that these were my own relatives
was unbearably embarrassing.
At that moment,



my husband quietly came up beside me and said,

“It looks like we should head home early.”

That one sentence saved me.
I told my uncle, “I’m worried about you, let’s exchange LINE contacts,” and after telling him to “please get some rest,” I left the scene.
We spent five hours getting there, and our stay was only 40 minutes.

I could not stay in that place any longer.




The five-hour journey home began again.


The air inside the car was even heavier and more stagnant than it had been on the way there.