Well. This is the most depressing thing I've managed to read in a long time. Maybe I'm a sap, but I choose to believe that our kids do actually, maybe somewhere deep down where they haven't found it in a while, love us, at least a little.
Wake up, I know exactly how you feel. My mother died when I was 23. I'm 51 now and I still miss her. Every. Single. Day. That my child doesn't love me the way I loved my mom just breaks my heart to pieces. Saddest thing in my whole, entire life.
And now I'm weeping at work and I have a case to hear. Ugh.
