I loved Grandma. When I first learned she died, I paused for a moment to reflect on the situation. I thought about my dad and wondered how he was feeling, knowing he just lost his mother.
I’ll admit though, I wasn’t particularly sad. She was 91. The last several years of her life had been complicated by all the typical old people problems- escalating medical issues, senility, and an ongoing and semi-contentious debate over what freedoms she was still entitled to. On the subject of her driving, she was truly a menace to society who needed to have her keys pried from her stubborn hands for the safety of the general population.
Considering these things, it was, as they say, her time to go. So yeah, I didn’t feel a strong sadness upon learning the news. I felt gratitude for her, but I was at ease with letting her go.
Now, the other night, I made myself a drink. A fancy seltzer. The kids were asleep, the wife was asleep, and I decided to sit down in my cozy living room and enjoy myself. After maybe three sips at most of that luxurious drink, I knocked it over onto the carpet. Seltzer everywhere. Everywhere but my mouth.
In THAT moment, I felt profound sadness. I was hella bummed. I was genuinely looking forward to enjoying that fizzy goodness, and now, I would not.
Whether or not my emotions demonstrate it, I do actually love Grandma more than seltzer water. But I do really, really love seltzer water a lot too.
Yolo 69 420 