Mom came over in Journal

to pick up her milk bottles. She gave us some extra milk she had 2 weeks ago, and I haven’t seen her since to give them back.
She just drove up, left the car running while she came to the door. She said “Hello” with a smile to me, “Hello” to my son. I said “Hi, mom!” in a cheery sort of way.
I handed her the bottles. She said, “Oh, good, I needed these back.”
“I’m glad you’ve got them back again,” I said.
“Yes.” she smiled cheerily again. “Nice and cool in here,” she observed. “Well, you too have a great day!” her smile waning.
“You too,” I said.
And, she left.

She called me about an hour later. I answered, of course I could see it was her, who doesn’t have caller ID these days? I just said “Hello?”
“This is your mom calling,” she came through sounding very robotic.
“Yes, hi, mom” I said for the second time today.
“I just felt bad, the way I left earlier. I just wanted to wish you a great day. I wanted to say that because I felt bad.”
“Oh, Okay. You have a great day as well.” - also the second time that day that same sentiment was shared between us.
“Alright, bye. I love you.” she said.
“Okay, bye.”
And she hung up.

Strange, I think, for someone who told me that they were very concerned that I was depressed not even a week ago. Strange, for someone who is truly concerned about my health and well-being to express exactly zero curiosity into how I am. Very strange indeed, for a parent to come over acting like a little child who needs attention and reassurance from her own daughter. Especially when she claims to be worried about me, and expressed her desire to help me out if I wanted.
Obviously, I am being facetious. There is nothing strange about her behavior. It’s entirely expected, although disappointing.
When she left, I felt a strong pang of grief. I was sorrowful for the lost connection that was at her fingertips. Was I grieving for her, or for me? I think… and this may be another part that I should get acquainted with… that I was grieving for her. She is so hurt and lost. And lonely. Unloved, unlovable, and unable to love.
That is very, very sad.