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if you're feeling lucid

Dear ---,

I can't listen to you when you're so irrational. When I ask you how you found out that Grandma died and you say that God told you, you are either being dishonest (and insulting my intelligence) or you're being irrational. Do you wonder why I seldom call or visit? I feel so tired and depressed after hearing about your little fantasy world. I used to be angry at S. and J. for never visiting you. But now I can hardly blame them, if you tell them the same things that you tell me. Can't you see how disturbing it is for your own children to hear that sort of thing?

Anyway, I still don't have any info on her death. Dad said he'd call me if he heard anything. But that's been nearly two weeks. I'm not going to press him. And I'm certainly not going to look to YOU for reliable news. I now question everything you tell me. I'm even skeptical about all those conflicts you supposedly had with your neighbors.

I'm sorry you and Grandma never reconciled. But your problems are not my problems. Maybe it's not even a problem in your warped view. I know how much you love conflict. You're just like the Middle-East, always at war with someone or everyone.

I'm not even sad about Grandma dying. I'm relieved for her. Hell, she was pushing NINETY! (Just how long do all you morbid Christians expect a human being to stick around on this planet?) And I know she was lonely and miserable living in that house after Grandpa died. And then she was even more miserable when she moved in with D. and M. (who could blame her?) The thing I really dreaded when I heard the news was the thought that my presence might be expected at her funeral. You wanna know something, ---? I really don't like your side of the family. I don't like your sister or your brothers or any of their children. They all strike me as petty, vicious little humans. Just like you. I feel neutral toward Dad's side of the family--probably because I had such limited contact with them growing up. (Wonder if you had anything to do with that?) Doesn't matter to me either way. When he speaks of his siblings and their children, I feel nothing--they're mostly faceless strangers to me. But your side of the family inspires nausea. I have no desire to meet them at a funeral or anywhere else. But, as it turns out, I never heard of any plans regarding her funeral. I'm sure she's in the ground by now. And D. and M. are busy cashing in on her assets and spending all her money--or defending it against all the other tacky vultures on your side of the family. I want no part of it. The cards and letters she sent me are more valuable than any of that stuff the others are going to fight over (though I wouldn't mind raiding her medicine cabinet). I hope they all eat each other alive. They'll certainly enjoy it. And mutual destruction is all they deserve. Just like the Middle-East.

That's all I have to say for now. Give me a call if you're feeling lucid.



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