Goodbye, Evil Grandma Rose


Sunday, 29 November 2009 at 3:10 pm Pacific USA Time.

If you know me for more than a few minutes, then you've probably heard one of my stores about "Evil Grandma Rose." You've heard the impersonation, which sounds like Edith Bunker since she had that shrill voice and Bronx accent. You might have even known that I called her Beelzebubby, which would be Beelzebub (the devil) plus Bubby (Jewish for Grandmother).

Well, I just got an email from my uncle (my mother's brother) that she passed away last night. I'm not sad about this for two main reasons. One is that she was a horrible bitch that most of us hated. She was mellower in her old age, but she was never really a nice person. I am blessed with a loving, caring Grandmother who makes me feel loved and special. That's not Grandma Rose for me or anybody.

Rose was my father's father, and oh my did Dad ever marry his mother. Shame there, but hey, we all repeat patterns until we get a certain amount of self-awareness and then the cojones to break the patterns. And for those who are new to my blog, I refer to my father as Jeff and my mother as Ellen.

Second, she had a pretty good life. She would have turned 97 in 2 months, and she was never sick. She took NO medications. None. She never had cancer. She never lost her memory. She never forgot who anybody was. She was living in an assisted living facility the last few years because she had vertigo, and would often fall (and break something) when she stood up. Other than that, she wasn't sick a day in her life. I don't even remember her having a cold.

And that's amazing for someone who I was sure lived only on chocolate. :)

She was also quite the businesswoman. I'm sure she was a horrible bitch in business, and I'm sure some people respected her, some feared her, and some hated her. But she made more money than her husband in a time when women didn't even work. She was the jewellery buyer at Fortunoffs stores (department stores in the NY area), and I think she did that for over 20 years. My grandfather, who died years before I was born, had evidently been a hosiery salesman.

In college, I wrote a song about her. My professor asked me to write a cathartic, personal song that I would sing alone (no instruments) at a school recital. I wrote about a child having a bad conversation and experience with a tree. She was the unmoving, decaying, poisonous tree, and the child partially represented my father and partially me. I'm still proud of that composition. You can't dance to it, but the audience liked it better than my comedy song about safe sex (with an underlying theme of the postal system).

I am at peace with her passing. I kept in touch with her, and never let on that I didn't like her. I called her every other month, and even visited her in April 2009 when I happened to be in Maryland on business. This is what we call a "mitzvah," which is when you do something you don't want to do because it makes someone else happy. :)

I don't think anybody will miss Grandma Rose. So don't be sad or sorry. Use this as a time to ask yourself what your granddaughter, nephew, sibling, or friend would blog about you when you died. What are you leaving behind, and who would miss you? 

I will not be going to any funeral. I will not be sending any sympathy cards. Please don't send any to me. I'm not happy she's dead, but I'm not sad at this.


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Categories: Just An Observation

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