My grandmother passed. After being told she was gone, I couldn't help but feel this slow ascending of suppressed anger rise out of me. I felt sick even 1) because I was drunk and tired when I'd received the call 2) because after years of knowing her, I finally recognized a feeling for her. A feeling that doesn't exactly warm the heart when told that someone had passed. It was just this unmoving anger. An anger not potent enough for rage but enough to linger once in a while during the quiet of my thoughts.
She never really cared for me. She never wanted much to do with me. With us. She never seemed happy to me. She never seemed like there was even much life in her. It was in our inopportune time that we got to meet her when life had decided to pile on her regrets and bitterness. There wasn't much for me to know. It was just gambling. It was all that mattered to her. I just hope that there was more to her than who I've known. I just hope there was a time in her life that she chose to live and had been happy. I hope she left us without her regrets. I hope she left peacefully. Because otherwise, I don't ever want to be like that.
Rest In Peace.
