Damn. I’m sorry to hear that your grandpa died when you were so young. I only ever had the one. My dad’s side of the family is a bunch of deadbeats, except for my grandma, who’s pretty awesome. My grandpa died 20 days ago, so I suppose the wound is still fresh.
My family has all but abandoned me emotionally. Then, when I came here for help with both my grief and paranoia, I got attacked for asking if my paranoid feelings were correct, and for posting about “private family business” on a public forum. As if it were their place to decide how forthcoming I should be with my own information about someone who died. It’s not like I gave out his full name, military ID, debit card information, and social security number. Why the fu ck did it even matter?
People are always attacking me over stupud sh it, and then, when I defend myself, I’m all of a sudden being a paranoid, belligerent ass hole. Oh, but then people will get all offended when I ask if I’m being paranoid, as if I can turn my schizophrenia off when people don’t feel like dealing with it. Hallucinations are passive and involuntary, which means I have absolutely no control over them, so being scolded, no, I’m sorry, spoken to “emphatically” for not saying anything every time I hallucinate is not only pointless, but borderline idiotic. And when I speak, people just fu cking talk over me as if I need permission to voice an opinion. It literally happened just now. Every day, I just get more and more pissed off, because I’m tired of getting treated like trash, because I’m grieving too. Of course, as my mom always makes very clear to me, he was her father, and such sadness will always be much deeper than mine. But he was also my grandpa, and his loss created a hound dog shaped hole in my heart that can never and will never be filled.
After I was stabilized, we hung out every day while my mom was at work and my brothers were at school. We watched CNN and ate together. We always shared our sweets and snacks with each other. He always wanted to protect me. He even fell in love with Tink Tink (he usually hates cats). He always said that he was going to eat his meals “with the gusto of a hound dog,” lol. He always tried to make my life easier. He was always asking me to teach him to do stuff by himself. Using the dishwasher, making oatmeal, using the microwave; he would eat frozen dinners so that I didn’t have to get up and make him food, even though I was (usually) happy to do it.
I’m not going to lie; he did get on my nerves sometimes. A lot, actually. But overall? He was great. He was more than great. He was the best I could’ve asked for.