My paternal grandma died early Saturday. I blew into and out of Orlando for her funeral on Monday. It was like I'd buried her in my head years ago--she had Alzheimer's, and it got really severe. So I don't feel bad for her. I feel horrible for my aunt, however. She's been clinically depressed for ages, and she thinks at fifty-something she's too old to do anything about it, and now her "purpose", taking care of Grandma, is gone. She and the rest of my family are the reason why I came. I'm not close to my father's side of the family--they didn't like my mom very much. But I needed to be there. My cousin Shane, who I am close to, needed that hug. My brother needed me and L'Ailee there.
It got surprisingly festive, with all of us far-flung relatives gotten together and the Southern funeral food and free-flowing beer. Shane is just a year older than I am, and we went to the same high school, and we both married quiet Russian women who like each other. Our wives were hugging and talking, and so did we. I felt a bit guilty, then I remembered that Grandma would have liked to see us all together. There wasn't even one fight.
I have only one grandparent left. And she's mean. :-(
And I realized that Orlando isn't home anymore, even though NYC still feels a bit strange and not at all homelike, too.
But at least ol' Churn and Burn, the evillest exec I ever worked with, has resigned. *eyes dart* Things balance out and all that.