My Auntie Helen died today.

Nobody even bothered to tell me she was in the hospital.

Grandma was "out of it" when she was told about the news. Mom is now terrified that she'll want to come down for the funeral and then she'll have to see Dad.

I fucking KNEW that if I bought plane tickets, something bad was going to happen. I fucking knew it.

Naturally, I can't go the funeral, and this was a relative on Dad's side I actually liked. (Though if Grandma did come down, I'd be glad to miss that trainwreck.)

*sigh* Great timing. Now I feel guilty for leaving, again.

Nobody even told me she was that badly off. I can't even remember the last time I saw her. (Though apparently she didn't want people to see her looking that bad, or something like that.)

She died on her wedding anniversary.

*sigh*

Nothing. Ever. Gets. Better.

I am not thrilled with the tackiness of this entry title, but it's all that's going through my head right now.

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