People assume that when someone dies, every conflict disappears. Mine didn't. My mother and I had stopped speaking after a serious argument. When she became ill, relatives told me to visit. I kept thinking there would be more time.
There wasn't. At the funeral, everyone told me she loved me and had forgiven me. I nodded, but the truth is I don't know whether I had forgiven her. Grief is complicated when the relationship was unfinished. I miss her, love her, resent her, and regret my silence all at once.