Death, Short Form

One of my grandparents died on Friday. Friday morning, to be exact. My mom called me to tell me, very calmly, and I didn't really feel very different. I mean, I'm not very close to any of my grandparents due to our inability to communicate with each other since I don't speak a lick of Mandarin, and they don't speak a lick of English. But. I felt guilty that I didn't feel anguished. I just felt...a little sad. Maybe a wee bit empty. And worried. Worried about how my dad was taking it.

But for me, personally, hearing about my grandparent's death at the age of 98 was like reading about someone famous dying, like Isaac Hayes or Bernie Mac. Or David Foster Wallace.

So tonight, I will pour a 40 oz on the sidewalk for the old girl.