Memoria.

Adults are always asking little kids what they want to be when they grow up because they're looking for ideas" - Paula Poundstone


Yesterday was Memorial Day.... it was something to remember for sure; some good, some bad.

As I'd stressed a few posts ago, my great-grandmother passed away recently. Along with my her, went my mother's job, our income, and the common objective which held all of us together somewhat: My great-grandmother's well-being.

Now that my great-grandmother's passed on, you'd think some form of unity or harmony would've woven itself in somehow.... but it hasn't. No thanks to my grandparents, especially.

Not two full days after my great-grandmother was put in the ground, did they want to chop up and divide what little my she had, in life, between them. How low can they go, you ask?

A whole lot lower.

It was only when my most immature aunt - my mom's sister - felt the need to stick her nose where it truly didn't belong, as usual, when things went from bad to really bad. All of a sudden, my grandfather grew some balls for once, after seeing my grandmother and my aunt double-team my mom as she tried to hold off the vultures (which they clearly are) from tarnishing my great-grandmother's memory by dividing up what little she'd left behind only a day and a half after she'd been buried, as I mentioned earlier.

But when I say my grandfather grew some balls, it wasn't in a positive way, as that sentence may have implied. Instead of helping my mom out, the bastard felt the need to lend his support to the pair who'd already ganged-up on her. Hence, he turned a double-team into a triple-team.

But it was what happened next, which was what really blew me away: He, knowing that my mother can't afford to uphold our apartment any longer because her salary was cut off when my great-grandmother passed away (my mom made a living by being my great-grandmother's caretaker), tells her that he wants us to pack our stuff up and leave.

And that, my loyal readers, is how LOW my so-called "family" can go. I'm most ashamed to share my grandfather's namesake right now, to be honest (my middle name, that is).

It's disgusting to think that any person, anywhere, can be so greedy as to put their own daughter and her children - his own grandsons - in the position of near-homelessness, just because they want to sell the illusion of them having some balls and a bit of a backbone.

Anyhow.... a day later. Yesterday. Memorial Day.

After three and a half days, my aunt and her equally obnoxious family, finally went back to their ignorant, country ass, redneck town in Maryland. And they didn't leave a moment too soon either.

Somewhere down the line, my mom and I found ourselves obliging my grandfather's wishes by packing up our stuff. But then there was a tender moment, towards the end of the day, when my mom, my brother and myself, found ourselves having a sort of impromtu dinner in the very room where my great-grandmother slept in. It felt really nice to have the three of us united against a common enemy: My grandparents.

It had been a very long time since we got the chance to sit down, have dinner, and watch some TV together.

For me, things usually have to get really, really bad before they can get good.... and not even really, really good.

Just a little good....