My mother lived with me, repeatedly in the little home I built, a few months after my first husband died. I had been a widow for only a few months, and my mother began staying with me anytime, my father hurt her, yelled at her or became narcissistically abusive. My mother nicknamed me, “my rock”. She depended on me. I championed her. I parented her. I took care of her. I made her feel safe. 13 years after she called me her rock, she stopped talking to me and chose my father o