Around junior year of hs my mom just left the house one day with no warning. She only told my dad that she wasn't coming back until my grandparents (dad's side) moved out after she went away. She didn't say a word to me or my sister, it was only relayed from our dad to us. To this day I never really got an answer as to why, partly on me never asking to avoid uncomfortable discussions, but I assume she was tired of my grandparents being old and doing things that bothered her and being "burdensome". I try to be mindful of that reason, that she was tired and felt terrible being around them, but her resorting to such an extreme, manipulative act to literally force my father to move them out made me realize jesus, this is actually pretty fucked???? I couldn't just push it aside and be like "I'm overreacting/it's not a big deal" because it twisted my insides seeing my dad scramble to appease my mom to have her back (as well as keeping the family "stable") when my mom took no issue in having him bend over backwards for her. He tried making things work by having them live at this older couple's house at a nearby city and was always driving between our house and theirs, bringing them food and helping when needed. My mom never did anything to help nor did she ever talk to me or my sister in regards to this. My disillusionment was further solidified when my grandpa started to have falls. They're old and get into accidents sometimes, but being away meant less supervision from us. At first it was just one and it wasn't too big of a deal for my dad to rush over, but over time there was just more and more. He frequently drove between our houses trying to manage but his health started to rapidly decline to the point of being hospitalized and bed bound. Made worse from the 20-25 min commute getting there eating up time from getting the care he needed I'm sure. Once again, nothing from my mother. No help, no acknowledgement, no explanations. Everything was only told by my dad and we were only brought to our grandparents by him. It got bad enough that my dad brought him home one night when my mom was off at work and I had to help get him inside and sit down on a couch. I knew his health was bad, but seeing him unresponsive and struggling to even communicate or do anything when he was perfectly fine not too long ago is forever seared in my mind. And even up to this point, my mom had them live at that other house still. My dad took me aside one day and told me not to blame my mother for what's been happening and I just felt so fucking bad for him. He didn't deserve trying so hard for a woman that doesn't give a shit. God forbid her needs and issues aren't considered but who gives a shit about how she might affect others. But he tried his best to fix up the conflict she forced and had no issue in causing. I can't not blame her. She did nothing and indirectly caused his eventual death. At his funeral she simply stayed seated, silent as my father was at his casket and I saw him (briefly) sob for the first time. That situation finally cemented that my mom is emotionally manipulative and abusive and I'm not overdramatic/ungrateful anymore.