I don't blame my mother, let alone resent her. She had only wanted the best for me.
Her mother had died in childbirth, as did her mother before her. As she writhed from the agony of labor, Death offered to spare her life.
My mother refused his deal, asking instead that I live to see my 80th birthday.
I love my mother, even as I sit alone atop the ashes of civilization.
I just wish that she had chosen her words more carefully on that cold February night.