Apparently, she died on March 15th, but I didn’t find out until today. I was estranged from her for nearly a decade. The family is broken, so information doesn’t get around.

She wasn’t good people, and I’m not really sad that she’s gone. It just feels a little weird, knowing she’s dead. Knowing she died pretty much alone. I don’t think she had anyone in the end.  Certainly none of her children. That’s a shitty way to go. Wonder if she felt sadness, in the end. Wonder if she ever owned up, even in her own mind, to the fact she pushed her whole family away.

I don’t believe in the Abrahamic god. I guess I’d be best described as a secular Buddhist, with some lip-service to pagan nature spirits thrown in. Not a lot of woowoo in my world worldview. Mostly just a scientist, with a lean towards certain philosophies and an appreciation for mythology.

I wonder what will become of her?

She’ll return to the carbon cycle, and the water cycle, and the nutrient cycle. With enough time, she’ll feed an entire ecosystem.

I could suspend my disbelief, and dip my toe into the metaphysical side of my ‘faith.’ I do it sometimes, when I mourn my dead Mother or my own mortality. Reincarnation is a comforting thought. We’re all just threads, collecting beads of knowledge from every experience. If I were going to own a spiritual belief fastidiously — and I don’t — I would choose,to believe thay we all live as many lives as we need to, in order to become whole. We’re all here to learn something we’re lacking. Humility, perseverence, altruism, self-control.

If I wanted to extend that kindness to her, I’d think maybe she might return as hymenopteran, or a mole rat. Something eusocial, so the thread of her existence might gain a pearl of wisdom — what it means, to serve the greater good. To be a part of a family, and a community.

If I were going to believe in the Abrahamic god, I might be Catholic. Salvation by grace alone sounds like a crock of shit. I’m sure it’s comforting to all the poor motherfuckers (myself included) that want to believe something greater than themselves loves them unconditionally, no matter how shitty of a person you are. A just God wouldn’t let bad people go to heaven, just because they sucked up to ’em. You gotta do good things, to go to Heaven. You gotta earn it. You gotta at least try.

If Heaven exists — and I don’t think it does — she wouldn’t go there. She wouldn’t go to Hell either, though. He’ll is for bad motherfuckers. Hitler. Dahmer. Not petty thieves, or sluts, or even your average hateful motherfucker on the street. Purgatory is a convenient place, for all the people too bad for Heaven and too good for hell. Give ’em time to figure their shit out. The Catholics knew what they were doing.

The last time I saw her, she was in the hospital. OD’d on something. I don’t know who called me to let me know, but I went to go see her. Used to fucking hate the woman. First time I saw her after she gave me the boot, she gave me a card. Burned it without opening it.

I wonder what it said? That was years ago. At least 7.

Anyway, used to hate her. Eventually, I stopped caring enough to hate. Went to go see her in the hospital, because I didn’t hate her. That was at least two years ago. When she was released, she went and lived with my sister for a bit. Shit happened, as it usually does with her. Then she didn’t live with my sister, anymore.

Hadn’t heard anything from nor about her since. Won’t hear anything from her ever again, I guess. At least I’ll never have to worry about her showing up, unexpected. Causing more trouble.

I wonder if I’ll die more well-loved than she was. I wonder if she thought of me. I wonder if she felt lonely. I hope she found peace, I guess? It’s hard to have goodwill towards someone who was, once upon a time, your boogeyman. Used to have panic attacks when people yelled. Used to dread her name.

I don’t think she hated me. I think she didn’t know how to love. Not her husbands, not her kids, not herself.

I realize this is not a thread which is conducive to chatting, but I guess I needed to vent somewhere. Somewhere where “I don’t feel sad for my dead grandma,” won’t leave the genteel population clutching their pearls.