Funny haha or funny queer

The week after posting my last blog, someone called me an asshole and told me to suckit.

While this happens frequently, it's generally friends, so no big deal. This was not a friend, and it was completely serious. I had said something insensitive, in jest, and this person flew off the handle. When I saw her message, I was both shocked and incredibly amused. See because of my last post here. The timing was hilarious. The situation itself wasn't.

I, of course, apologized for being an asshole. That doesn't mean I think her response was acceptable or professional (we work together), but I had clearly hurt her feelings.

Isn't timing just funny sometimes?

let's talk about tact: Then/Now

Resurrected post from 1 year ago today:

My grandfather passed away in the early hours this morning.
Know how I found out?
A text message from my aunt.
I was prepared for this news, but who fucking sends a text to announce a family member's death?
Then, not 20 minutes later, I got a text from my dad- grandpa is gone.
And I thought... Did anyone in this family learn anything about tact-Ever???
As I was steaming about that, my dad calls.
He apologized for waking me, but not for sending that message by text. What an ass. After I asked if he was okay and he confirmed that yes he was, we were very thankfully done talking. (FYI I'm not a fan of my dad)

Seriously, texting death messages?? There is a time and place for texts. This isn't it. Assholes.

And a new take:

It's been a year now. My grandfather was the only constant male figure that I looked up to throughout my life. He was kind and generous and FUNNY and cuddly and patient and so so intelligent.

He was a thorasic cardiovascular surgeon and the president of a mormon temple and a dedicated gardener. A very busy man. He always and forever made time for his family and showered us with love. He taught me how to play well with others and to respect people from all cultures, no matter what differing views we have.

Three days after he passed, my grandmother fell in her front yard. She broke her shoulder. Along with her mental anguish, she was in terrible pain and couldn't do much at all for herself.

She had a complete breakdown. Her docs prescribed some pain killers, antidepressants, and valium for her. She cried all day and all night- hardly sleeping because her best friend from the time she was in 5th grade was gone.

My aunt and uncle recently rescued her from a pit of despair and checked her into a hospital. She transferred out to a convalescent home about a week later. She is in physical and mental rehabilitation and finally feels human and ready to live again. Tonight, they're taking her out to dinner- to celebrate grandpa's life and to close the book on grandma's deep mourning.

As soon as she is capable of living on her own again, they'll take her home and set her up with a maid/cook 3 times a week to make sure she has every chance possible to relax and to meet up with the other widows in her area. She knows of 30 just off the top of her head.

Seeing my grandma go through this after the loss of her husband scares the shit out of me. What if I end up giving my heart to someone and they're gone one day. Ouch. I can't imagine how much it hurts.

Grandpa, I hope you've found peace.