I'm not quite sure why I am drawn towards this article title, until seeing it by chance I felt that I had already put this particular life issue 'to bed' so to speak.
I had already decided that her actions had placed her way beyond forgiveness.

However I am old enough and wise enough to know that your subconscious mind sometimes has a far greater insight into your conscious thinking than you realize and perhaps a brief literary review may alter or even substantiate my current thinking?

My childhood was spent as a 'forces child' with all the pro's and cons that run alongside such a position. My Father and mother were both serving soldiers and my Father in particular held a fairly significant rank that brought with it an automatically assumed level of respect from colleagues and the general public alike.

Whenever the large family unit went 'off base' my parents both wore their dress uniforms and were instantly treated like royalty in whichever store we would choose to visit.
On Base we were assumed to be the epitome of Service life, the kind of stuff that recruitment campaigns would make much of when trying to promise such delights to potential recruits.

Behind closed doors however the world changed for all us as soon as the door slammed too, firmly within it's frame.

The life for all of the children was controlled by fear and total silence, we were not allowed to speak unless spoken to and conversation between the siblings was restricted to accepted whispers during specific time periods within our bedrooms.
The other rules were extensive and equally distressing but the details irrelevant to this account.

Needless to say the rules were never ever broken, but despite this compliance regular beastings were handed out almost as a family event to each and every one of us on a regular basis, and not knowing any different we actually believed that every home in the World was identical to ours, with this understanding we believed that we loved our parents dearly and deserved everything they dished out.

Up until my Sister was about 8 or 9 my Mother played no real active part in physical violence towards us, but then I clearly remember that her relationship with my Sister changed dramatically and the beatings and ill-treatment that our Father delivered paled into insignificance when considering the pure depths of evil and depravity that descended upon our Sister on a daily basis perpetrated by our mother.

Looking back I wish I had done anything

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