My Grandfather was a rasin

Today is my grandfather’s birthday! He’s been dead two years now. Sad. But can I brag on myself for a moment. My relationship with grief is very good. Possibly a form that should be modeled and studied by people all around the world who grieve things like the bouquet they bought from Trader Joes. They loved the way it radiated life into the space, but now it looks like the end parts of Beauty and the Beast before the grotesque beast becomes a real life person and Belle finally stops fucking his dogish form. I just remember all the times I shared with my grandfather and all the reasons it’s ok that he passed away. It was cancer and the type of cancer was super unclear to me. It was affecting his skin to the point where he looked like a raisin. But it was also his lymphs. I remember we were getting dinner together one time and we were talking about how awful his skin looked and I was super nice to him about it. If I threw up I’s do it in my napkin and we wouldn’t acknowledge. I was never really that embarrassed to be around him either. Skin flakes and all. But I was trying to give him some advice and see if there was anything I could do to help with his stage four problem. I recommended he use this nice moisturizer that always left my skin looking refreshed and dewy. Before I could finish my sentence he told me “I’ve used them all”. I heard what he was telling me, but I also thought maybe he hadn’t tried this one sunscreen from Sephora. Maybe it was the difference between life and death. He told me her was ok with a little chuckle that sort of tore at my feelings. I was a little relieved, though that he declined my invitation to start using that sunscreen because it wasn’t that best thing for coral reefs like most sunscreens. You don’t understand how much like a rasin his skin looked, though. It didn’t matter how many sunscreens he was prescribed. His skin would never stop flaking like leaves at the end of autumn. Looking back I was coming on strong and inserting myself into a cancer situation when I’m a Scorpio. If his disease had something to do from a scorpion poisoning him, I am all over that, but it wasn’t written in the stars. I learned a valuable lesson. You can’t teach a horse how to gallop on two legs. You can try to fit a circle into a square peg, but those types of toys are for babies. Now he's dead and I sleep knowing it was not my fault. I did everything I could. He was very rich by the way. He lived in a nice townhouse in an expensive part of Chicago. He had the money to support my Uncle so he never had to get a real job and even felt fine to practically set his money a blaze anytime he gave me money for school books. I would just play online Poker with friends. I’m a horrible gambler. His money was everyone's favorite thing about him. If he didn’t have any money he would be the person in the movie theater yelling about how everything is too damn loud. With full pockets he was the person in the movie theater yelling about how everything is too damn loud, but we all also had popcorn. There was one time he felt near death and I cleared my schedule and drive to a hospital. No matter how near death he felt, though he would only go to one hospital. That’s how old he was. He was old enough to have developed that old person stubbornness that told him every other hospital had alligators in it. The hospital he loved was an hour and a half away. And once we get there we wait for another hour and once we finally get back there with the doctors, he died on the operating table. Just KIDDING!!! He was just really thirsty. They hooked him up to an IV and he died two weeks later. Whenever grandfather’s die, dads get very strange! I don’t think my dad has been the same for a very long time. He says I love you now on the phone, which he never did before. It’s very sweet in theory, but if your dad never said I love you your whole life and then finally starts in your 20s when you’re finally wearing tops that show off your knockers, its suspicious. I don’t think my dad would ever make a move on me. Probably my brother before he would ever do anything to me. They have more in common. They both like hockey. I wouldn’t even know how to position my body for my dad to slap-shot his dick in my ass. But it’s good that someone finally died so we could all get closer as a family. But also sometimes when you get closer as a family things come to the surface and you start realizing things you didn't before. My dad, for example, found out he did not like my mom. So much so that he lives in a tiny one bedroom under a bridge now. The house they had together was a nice two story with a backyard. He disliked her so much he would rather spend his time with rats living next door than with my mom. I completely agree with his stance, though. My mom is a nightmare. She was perfect for pushing me out of her cooter, but when it comes to being reasonable and emotionally stable she has none of those skills. So rest in peace grandpa! I’m glad you died before you saw our family fall into shattered pieces!