there's more to life than this

This is my grammy:

Ain't she a looker? My aunt says that she is about my age in this picture.

Her mother was terrible to her (and to most people). She apparently tried to sell (yes, sell) and pawn my grandmother off on more than one occasion.

My mother dropped off a couple of her things to me the other day. I came home to find her white terrycloth robe with cats on it hanging on my back door. I was glad to have it but I can't wear it. I do like to imagine her finding that robe in a catalog and liking the big cartoony cats on it enough to order it.

This Friday we (my mom and I) are going to go back out to her house to go through some more things and visit my aunt. My mother wants me to have this picture that she painted for my grandmother when she was a teenager -- it was a picture of her future child, a girl. And it does resemble me, or it did when I was younger.

I went to her funeral. I spoke at her funeral. I've seen her empty bedroom. But I'm still in denial.