Do not become trapped by your hatred. My mother died a very lonely person. When I was young, I thought mother was the epitome of regal - the way she smiled when she strolled into a room, the sound of her soothing voice - she was my princess mommy. The most outgoing, caring person with a perfect house, prized flower garden, a model family. Yet, her anger toward herself, then directed toward others, made her into an unkempt, overweight alcoholic, living in a house that I can only describe as vile. Alone, the only contact she had with the outside world was basically whatever she saw on television. As lonely as Mother became, she would, at least when I saw her, instantly recite how she had been wronged in her life. Her body would shake and her face would turn crimson as she would recite how much she detested everyone and everything in her life. Think of it: a lifetime wasted. Minute after minute, day after day, year after year ... wasted.