Remembering Grandma (she died, I remember that part vividly)

The thing I remember most about my grandma is that she died. That's probably because it just happened not too long ago. The two of us were really really close but my mom and I . . . not so much.

When I was in the fifth grade, my mom let me starve my pet rabbit to death to teach me a lesson about lying when I said I had fed it. I also had to write 500 sentences in non repeating colors that I would always be truthful. Because she felt that a fifth grader dealing with the guilt of murdering his favorite pet wasn't a fair enough punishment.

Back to my dyeing grandma.

My mom had been spending the last few weeks with her and I had my last visit with her and in her barely conscious state she gave me a giant blue book of etiquette. The standard for book of how to properly function as a social person. My grandma told me that this book would come in handy for me when I need to know how to speak respectfully to my mother on the phone. Then she told me that the way I neglect to have a relationship with my mom has let her down and (because I am a Christian) has changed her perspective on Christianity.

After she died, my aunt brought over a garbage bag of clothes. I sent them all to the goodwill except for a yellow robe. So that's all I got to remember the only sane and normal acting person who was part of my childhood. A book of etiquette and yellow robe.

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