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  • Christina Fotinelli

Dear Grandma,

Louise “Lou” Webber hasn’t been home in a decade. Shunned for trying to break her beloved grandpop Zachary out of a retirement community she’s been permitted back into the family fold only to attend his funeral. Lou is under no illusion that her vile step-grandmother and fickle relatives care more for the contents of Grandpop's will than his eternal peace but lingering behind at the grave to say a final goodbye even she is shocked to see the gravediggers hauling the coffin out from the earth and wheeling it down the hill.

Dear Grandma,

It pains me to ask this, especially in light of your sour countenance and your deteriorating mind, but why can’t I find Grandpa in the family plot? What have you done with him?

The village idiots you hired to inter him say he's exactly where he should be, nestled in between Cousin Brandon and Aunt Joyce and resting on top of Great Grandpa Dick (oh, what a kick he'd get from that) but that's impossible because after everyone left I saw them hauling his coffin down the lane with my own eyes.

By the time I caught up with them the coffin had vanished. God knows how they did it as they're utterly incompetent but make it disappear they did and there was no coaxing, cajoling or pleading that could convince them to tell me the truth. I even tried to bribe them but that was as hopeless as threatening them as they're too stupid to respond to either a carrot or a stick.

Confess! Where have you squirrelled away Grandpop's remains?

Crocodile Tears

Play the grieving widow all you like but you will not fool me! I went back to the cemetery yesterday to look for clues and I saw you even had his name scratched off the headstone! That's low Grams, even for you. Did you think no one would notice?

You know very well that the unspoken family rule is that no matter how disliked someone is in life they shall spend eternity with their brethren.

No one in this family likes one another. This cannot be news to you, Grammy. Not a single one of us can bear the site of one another. We're all just pretending. We fawn and kiss up when we need help and lord it over the others when our help is needed. We gossip about each other sycophantically and despise every moment we have to spend in one another's company but..... we're still blood.

Blood Trumps

Blood trumps it all Grams. Water, oil, paper, and scissors, bricks and mortar. It trumps it all except for possibly hard currency or gold bullion and maybe cryptocurrency for the younger generation. The point is, you know as well as I do that in this family blood is blood. Whatever beefs and disagreements we had in life we have the everlasting afterlife to sort.

Let's hope different rules apply up there! Because down here good people like me and Grandpops have gotten trounced. I may be the family pariah of the moment and be on shaky ground with the family folk but make no mistake, your number is up soon Gran and you've committed a cardinal sin here.

You think you're safe because all the cousins coo and suck up to you now for a handout believe me they won't hesitate to nudge you a step closer to your impending demise. What none of you know is that Grandpop cut you all out. All of you vipers. He left you with precisely nothing.

A Bird in The Hand

See, it doesn't pay to take your eye off the ball or count your chickens. Especially not a wrinkly, wobbly 92 year old one that was ageing everywhere except for his razor sharp mind. You should have paid more attention to him at Silver Lakes. You thought you'd offloaded him to some geriatric pasture where he'd graze on morphine and jello until he keeled over. Well, I visited him almost every day and the product of all those visits - you couldn't wait to weasel out of - is an iron clad will that you'll never contest.

Let that sink in.

Now who's the bitch, bitch? If you'd said me, you'd be wrong. If you'd say Karma I'd say you're dead right!

You may want to atone early Grammy...... and you can damn well start by telling me where in the heck you've buried Grandpop!


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