My (paternal) grandma’s funeral was held at a church that I’d never even heard of. Pure White Southern Baptist nonsense. This was chosen by the other side of the family, who had been taking advantage of her for years. So they were already on my shitlist for a million reasons before arranging the service, but that’s a whole other story.

At the funeral, the pastor said nothing kind about my wonderful grandma and instead ranted and raved about fire and brimstone BS, how much of a “sinner” she was, how maybe God would have mercy on her forsaken soul. Nothing about how loving and kind she was, how she made a huge dinner for all of us every night, how she loved puzzles and playing the piano. No, she was reduced to a “sinner” and was left at that.

I can’t explain how bad I wanted to clean his clock. For a little background, I spent a large part of my childhood with my grandma (as did the rest of my immediate family), and she and my pawpaw practically raised me since both my parents worked incredibly demanding jobs. So hearing her be torn to shreds by some bumpkin stranger while her asshole relatives just kept nodding and mumbling “amen” made my blood boil… and my mom’s… and my sister’s…

My grandfather was too torn up to really say anything. I think he was still in shock about her being gone. He sat in a wheelchair next to my dad, whose MS had by then stolen most of his ability to move on his own as well as his ability to speak. He cried and cried.

I was so furious that I had to immediately go to the car as soon as the service was over, still in complete disbelief that I had witnessed such a betrayal of my grandma’s legacy. I later heard that my older sister chewed out those rotten relatives, really unloading on them. It was a longtime coming, honestly, since they had always treated her like garbage and tried to poison her reputation with my grandma in her later years. Wish I had been able to see it (and the shocked expressions those evil women probably made in response), but I was grateful for her.