That woman never never hugged me, she never held my hand, never wiped away the tears, never joined in a laugh or a giggle. Never acknowledged I (or we) existed.
At the same time though I am sorry she’s dying. I am sorry that she has lost her mind. I am sorry that she missed out on getting to know me, and I her.
What she did, or rather what she did not do has had rather a profound influence on my life. I am the way I am because of her. I try not to be bitter, what good would that do?
I think her treatment of me and my sibling has made me sensitive, more emphatic.
She has made me stronger. She has made me hate injustice, despise judgement based on prejudice, hate the haters of this world.
Well really she has made me pity the haters. They are too closeminded and shortsighted to see that all they are doing is preventing themselves from getting to know something of the world, by refusing to accept, they are stopping themselves from enjoying all of the variety that this world has to offer.
So, grandmother, I wish you peace in your last few moments of this planet, you have taught me about the world of hurt and the world that pains, and you have helped shape the person that I am.
Peace be with you.