The Truth about Death, Dying, and Life

^^ Take note of the oxford comma.

I don’t understand people. Every time I think I understand them, I am proven wrong. I am never one to “fit in” or to go with the crowd. I have a controversial view of death and dying that probably makes people uncomfortable.

My grandmother died tonight. Less than an hour after my younger (more lovable, less serious) sister discovered this, she had a post up on Facebook. I find this curious as she spent most of her time during my grandmother’s last days with her boyfriend. But who am I to judge?

When I saw this I immediately sent my (usually) like minded brother a text message: “She posted to Facebook. Already”
Eric: “Leave her alone”
Me: “I didn’t say anything”
Eric: “there’s nothing wrong with showing emotion”
….. me (shocked): “Ok mom”- AKA I don’t know you, who the fuck are you and what did you do with my brother.

Am I supposed to be more upset? My grandmother was 93, lived a long and happy life and she was suffering- maybe not in physical pain, but who wants to live out the last months of their lives utterly useless, having someone else wipe your ass. Is it the health care provider in me? Or is it the fact that I’m a cold hearted bitch.

As a precaution, I always have my guard up. Why would I ever let someone in? They always hurt you in the end. This stems back to my father being in and out of the hospital constantly and, later in my (and his) life, constantly disappointing me with failure to maintain sobriety. Prior boyfriends and friends have complained about my inability to fully engage. I won’t deny that I am not naive anymore and I will likely NEVER fully trust anyone. The world is not your oyster. The world is there to fuck you over.

Feel free to prove me wrong. But almost thirty years of experience has taught me otherwise. So why would I be a sucker and engage in the pain set before me? No thanks, my whole life has been pain.


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