Carry the weight

I just lost my mother 7 days ago. She passed away during her sleep. Everyone goes through this ordeal, right? No big deal. Let me tell you why it is very complicated for me. My mother was not by far the best person in the world. My brother had molested me for several years starting from when I was just 9 years old. He told me that “he was trying to make me free with him and siblings from other countries undress and touch their sisters all the time. And, I was overreacting.” All those years I blamed myself thinking that I was overreacting to things. I still remember how disgusted I felt when he touched my breasts and my vagina. My mother, she knew all about it. She threatened me that if I tell someone, the family would be destroyed and it would be the end of the world. So, it went on for the next 8 years. I had tried suicide so many times. Last year when I had told my sister and the rest of the family, my mom denied everything. And, not to mention, supporting the culprit. Both of my parents did. Their logic was “IT’S A MALE THING AND THERE WAS NO RAPE” I felt the pain of losing them both that time. I got to know that grief causes physical pain. Now that my mother has literally gone, I don’t know how to feel anymore. There’s a crushing pain and underneath it lies an ocean full of hatred. I feel numb. Am I being a bad daughter for speaking against my criminals? They outcasted me emotionally because I had dared to accuse their son. My life has become a nightmare I cannot wake up from. And, despite everything I loved my mother; underneath the ocean full of hatred. I tried my best to make her happy but, in the end, I failed. I failed because I stood up against the molestation. We read about child molestation all the time. However, very few of us know how it kills a part of you; the best part. I am so damaged that I don’t know I can ever be happy again. I have traveled through madness to find me. And, I don’t know if I can lose myself again for the death of someone to whom my life did not matter. Sorry ma, I can’t forgive you; not this time.