Yeah, I think in your daughter's case, I can understand your sadness at their feelings because your wife was mentally ill and that makes a difference...she really couldn't help the way she was. With my mom, it wasn't a mental illness...it was just meanness and judgement. And as I said, I loved my mom, and like you said about your situation, not all was bad. We had good memories, but when I look back, so much is tinted with other memories. When I think about the difference between the way she treated me, and the way she treated my brother, I can't help but feel like my mom didn't have the same love for me that she had for him. She certainly didn't love me unconditionally. She could look past my brother being gay, even though that was totally against her beliefs, but she couldn't look past me dating someone she hadn't given me permission to date, as an adult. And she would gush about my brother labeling her pill bottles for her and how amazing he was for being with her when she had her surgery and first chemo, but not a word was said about the fact that I was there too, and I was actually the one taking care of her once she got home. I was making her meals, taking her to follow up appointments, cleaning her house, making sure her bills got paid, while my brother was back to his own life. But HE was the amazing one because he wrote "puke" on her anti-nausea pill bottle. He was everything to her, and I couldn't compete....that is so painful to me that I was expendable....my contribution meant nothing to her because I wasn't as important to her. And she didn't have the excuse of mental illness to justify it, and the cancer wasn't until later in life, but this kind of treatment was my whole life, so it wasn't a matter of her feeling sick and being cranky or depressed. It was just that she didn't love me the same as she loved him.
I love that you try to give your kids and grandkids the positive attitude, and remind them of the good that was certainly there, even if forgotten. That's so great that you can still have the respect for her that you do, and that you want them to remember her for the good she did. I WISH I could feel that way about my mom, and I DO to an extent, but I'm also still so hurt, and part of it is that whenever I confronted her about the difference in treatment, she justified it and would never apologize, even for hurting my feelings. She would just pile on more meanness and make me feel worthless. So it's hard to forgive when she KNEW she was hurting me, but told me I deserved it and she didn't feel at all bad for it. And if I can't forgive, I can't get past it...so it's hard for me to reconcile that.