Okay, anyone who would like to pretend I am still a decent person, turn away. You don't want to read this.
So yesterday I sit in the home of my paternal grandparents with family I have little seen. I have not seen my father in.... three years? My half brother in four, maybe five years. Cousins, *pfft* most I do not remember meeting. I feel like I am at a party and I am the kid you had to invite, even though no one really wanted you to come. Family obligation. Everyone talks about her like she was a saint. How the most important thing to her was family. And I just know tomorrow she will be memorialized saying how much she gave to her family, and how family was everything to her.
There are a lot of regrets I have. I regret Gramma that we were never close. I regret that you saw me as a drain on your precious son, and that you never taught him to be enough of a man to want to support his children. I really hate the fact that I was never the grandson you wanted from my white mother to my coming out, when I ceased to exist for you. I grieve for what could have been because I should mourn you, but all I mourn is the fact that I take not one good memory with me. I never got to see the woman everyone else is mourning.
When I wandered through a house I barely remember there are pictures everywhere of my father and my brother. I know you were sent pictures of me. Did they ever go on those walls, or were they just shuffled away. Was there ever a time you acknowledged having two grandsons?
You had a sucky life, I get that. I would not want to live with the man you chose to marry. Maybe it was just your way to have someone that had less of a presence in the family than you did. Or maybe it was none of these things, and you just never liked me for reasons that were all your own and you take to the grave with you.
Peace, Gramma. I wish you peace.