Growing up, once I was old enough to have some degree of critical thinking, I knew my grandfather was a horrible man. And shortly thereafter, I began to wonder why my grandmother married him, let alone was still with him. When I finally got a chance to ask her privately, she patted my head and told me she'd explain when I was older, it was for grown up reasons.
At his funeral, I came prepared with my research on how unmarried women were disadvantaged in her youth and that I understood.
I was unprepared for drunken stories about his penis.
No comments:
Post a Comment