Purpose

The purpose of this blog is to document my joys, frustrations, unique finds and general information pertaining to my experiences playing World of Warcraft.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

A Personal Note

I haven't played WoW much the last few days.  I just wanted to make a quick post as to why, and why I haven't posted here.  I apologize--this is not WoW related, and not my usual frivolous post.  Out of respect, I will not be holding to my "Whoa!" theme.

I grew up with my abusive father and stepmother after my parents split.  My father was finally diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia just days before he died.  I do not know if my stepmother has received any form of diagnosis, but it's the general consensus of all of us kids, including her 2 boys by my father, that she is mentally ill.

I won't go into details except to say the abuse was mostly mental and emotional for me.  My brothers got beat pretty bad after I left apparently.  It was, needless to say, a very dark time in my life.

The one shining beacon during this was my grandmother, my dad's mom.  Grandma Jewell.  And was she ever a shining jewel.

Her and my grandfather took us in for a year when my parents first split.  Before and after the divorce, we would go over to her house most Sundays for a big family dinner.  Dad had one brother, and my uncle and aunt would be there.

Grandma was born in Green County, Arkansas, and so was my grandfather.  So dinner was usually southern fried chicken, biscuits, corn on the cob, mashed potatoes and gravy--and she made the mashed potatoes with evaporated milk, not regular milk.  Now and then she'd make collard greens and cornbread.  Grandpa loved to fill a glass with buttermilk and leftover cornbread and eat it, and I think she would make it just for him.

At some point during the evening, my stepmother would make some snide comment to her--you know, the kind that almost sounds like a compliment, but really isn't?  Grandma would look at her, grab her own ear, and say, "What was that, hon?  Here, let me turn my hearing aid up."  She confessed to me later that she heard every word my stepmother said--but she wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of knowing it.

She always greeted us at the door with a big hug and kiss.  Her house was always spotless, too.  She'd say, "Well, hon, you never know when (Ron and Nancy, George and Barbara, Bill and Hillary, etc.) are coming over."  If anything went wrong, she would fix it with ice-cream.  We'd sit over our bowls and talk about life.

She drank coffee with cream, and always said you weren't a true coffee drinker if you had to have both cream and sugar in it.  I drink mine with cream only to this day.

And almost every year, I got to go stay with her for at least a week, if not two.  It was the one time I could actually be myself without repurcussions.  I lived for these breaks from my horrible reality.  And I loved her for it.

Grandma was always a true southern bell.  She told it like it was and she was always a lady doing it.  She loved to laugh, she loved her family, and she loved her religion.

Early Wednesday morning, at the age of 90, she passed away.  She was fighting liver cancer with all her being, and it won.

Grandma Jewell, I love you.  May you rest in peace until the resurrection.

Thank you all for letting me grieve.

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