...

I went and picked my mother up from the hospital this morning at a quarter after one. Grammy finally passed. Considering that the nurses were commenting that they'd seen patients in her condition last for weeks, I think that we were all spared a tremendous burden. I miss my grandmother. At the same time, I'm relieved by her death and thankful for this chance to put all the vileness of her personal character behind me; to move beyond the slights and cruelties to a place where I can remember her fondly and remember the times when she was clear and loving to me. The times I was able to draw strength from her conversation and advice, the times she found the gift that was perfectly me and made me feel special, the times she offered her help without reservation and without strings. Not the times she got drunk and called me filthy names no five-year-old should ever have to hear, nor the times she hit on the guy in high school that I was crushing on, nor the times she spat her venom at my aunt and uncle, my mother, my cousins, myself, and my friends. But rather the times she was like this.

And I hope that her next life is kinder; that her next path is more rewarding to her. It's hard to believe she's gone. But she is.

Thank god.