My grandma passed away Sunday. She got sick, recovered from that, but her brain didn't and she went. I made it to town Friday by noon, saw her in the hospital that afternoon she was moved to hospice, stayed with her most of the day Saturday before a lot of my family did and my mother woke me up Sunday at 3:57 am to let me know she had gone. Very few people get to leave this planet surrounded by their own loved ones and legacy, and I'm grateful she was able to. But throughout this whole process I'm becoming less and less accepting of my extended family.

I started to write a story, I stopped, I'm just gonna end up journaling instead. I can't really talk to anyone right now because everyone I'd talk to is hurting, or I'd have to tell them my grandmother passed away and have a conversation about that.

The endless facebook seeking attention posts throughout the last few weeks
The "joking" conversations about who's her favorite in front of her
The attempt to push the funeral to June 2nd for the sake of one person
The fact that I saw her more frequently than the people that lived within 20 minutes of her
A fucking tattoo on the body of a person that couldn't spend 10 minutes this weekend to pay last respects
A facebook post of the tattoo
A reshare of the facebook post
The sudden sharing and liking of pictures that I've had up for years
The fact that I have to see these people Sunday
It's all building up to just pissing me off at the self indulgence

We all grieve and hurt in our own personal way. But when you co-opt the death of someone that you didn't honor in life ... just the fucking audacity.

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“There is no fate that cannot be surmounted by scorn.” -Albert Camus