...is a funny thing, sometimes. My grandmother died today. That's the second grandparent this year, and the last one I'm biologically related to. I know my cousins (my mother's sister's children) will be upset by it; they were close to her. Somehow, though, I can't mourn the woman. I hardly knew her. For a variety of reasons, and because of a lot of family drama, we were never close to my mom's parents. I wish, and have wished many times, that this were not so. There will be no funeral, no memorial, no ceremony in my grandmother's honor. She didn't want one; I'm not sure why. So my family and my grandmother's sisters will gather and remember her. I'm looking forward to hearing about her, to learning what she was like. And all the while, I'll feel sad. I will mourn, though it won't be for the woman, but rather, for the relationship we never had.
I'll draw comfort from my Aunt Joan and Aunt Elsie, who I do know and love, and from the knowledge that when I eventually have children, they will know their grandparents. My children will have a gloriously extended family full of love and insanity.
To the grandmother I never really knew. May you rest in peace, and may you leave behind more loved ones to mourn your passing on your next go-round.