I had a bunch of (what I thought was) profound shit in my head on the way to pick up my mom (your daughter) from the bar.
Mostly it consisted of my recent realization that I’m your only granddaughter and I just want to make you proud. So proud. But I’m confident that your daughter D and uncle K, if they could have children, let alone a girl, she would be wonderful.
I know I didn’t talk to you a whole lot, but when I did you always knew. Knew what? I don’t know, but you knew what you needed to. And right now I want to fucking talk, Grandma.
I’m waiting for fists to fly alongside the words. They argue like I’m not sitting right fucking here.
And for once Grandma, I opened my mouth. While simultaneously breaking one of my rules.
Don’t talk to drunks if avoidable.
The results were expected, and I don’t know why I bother.
Now I’m just fucking tired and want sleep but can’t for fear of drunken parents and I have to pick my brother up at 12:30 and I have work in the morning (unlike some drunk fucks) and I just…
I didn’t mean for this to become another booze rant, Grandma. Especially when I never talk to you. And this is really just a bad, fragmented version of what I wanted to say…
I just don’t know what to do.
Other than whine for attention on the internet, it seems.
I want this as a reminder to myself later, though. Reminder of what, I’m not sure.
Just know I love you Grandma, and I miss you.