8

I don't really know why it was that she was so shitty. Don't know why at all. Maybe it was her upbringing. Maybe it was because her father didn't care. Maybe it could be an excuse. It sure isn't for me. But then there is the whole question of family. Screw her. I only think my mom's mom (her private little nurse) cried at the funeral, nobody else did. We were actually kind of happy that she died. To put her out of her (our) misery. For who's misery was it more? That she couldn't remember anything? How tragic is that? How tragic is it that I never saw or heard her say one nice thing in my entire life and now my memories are filled with her stench, while she got to slowly forget (unremember) them. That ugly stench of cancerettes and piss and crap all over that green mock she wore, trying to get across the room. Eventually she fell and had to be placed in the nursing home. My mom's mom couldn't take care of her anymore. And neither did she get any graditude (gratitude for the English majors) doing it. She was really the superman. At least the superwoman. Taking care of her mom every day for 10 years and not getting anything back for it. Not getting money or even love back. Nor even a thanks. That's not what family is about. Family is not one sided. Fuck family man. Family isn't about someone taking advantage of the other. My mom's mom forgot about her for 30 years and then now that she needed help because she decided not to walk she wants her daughter to take care of her? Family doesn't have to be blood. Family is about no matter how much you fuck up they are still there for you. That is what family is about. And you know deep down inside that they love you. That they would do anything for you. And she wouldn't do that. I knew when I would get her a pack of those cigarettes that she didn't give two fucks about me. I was just there for her services. Screw her. And it didn't even effect me when she died. But yet it did. Because even when something so putrid and disgusting you have to spend time with that thing grows part of you. And she is part of me today, because I still can fucking remember it all. Maybe one day I'll forget, they say Alzeheimer's runs in the family. And because my genes were passed down from my mom's mom's mom to me, I can still feel inside me the way she thinks, and when I write it comes out. But I would rather die than end up how she did. And so what? You are never really who you want to be and you are never who you really are, your stuck into who you appear to be. But right now I'm Superman. And I've got a Human Brain to go with it.