Last one out of the Kinjaverse, turn out the lights.
Last one out of the Kinjaverse, turn out the lights.

Some of you read my previous posts on my grandmother, who used to attend Comic-Con and dressed up like a zombie one year.

Well, she passed yesterday, about 4 pm PST, and it was really kind of surreal. I got to my parents' house, where she was living for the last 2 years, and found that they hadn't come to pick up the body yet. My mom asked me if I wanted to see her, and I couldn't. It was just too much for me to see her laying there like that.

I was there at the house until almost 10:00pm, and saw them bring my grandmother out on a gurney, and while it was sad, all I could think of was a short story by George Bernard Shaw, when his mother died and was cremated. In the story, it's basically a letter on how fascinated he was about his mother's body being burned to ash, and the bones being sifted out from what was left. He then said something to the effect of, "I'm not sure what was still her and what wasn't; the crematorium seemed to think that her ashes represented her, but if that was the case, what of the bones that were left behind? What about her soul?"


Throughout the letter/short story, the sentiment is that he loved his mother, but he wasn't sad about her death, more that he was fascinated over how people felt about death.

Here's where it gets really weird for me - I did another podcast episode this morning. Now, I had talked with the guy who co-hosted with me for this week's episode, and he chose Ghostbusters as the topic. We'd planned it about a week out from this, and it just happened that we started talking about ghosts, and at one point I kinda philosophized a bit about ghosts and what happens in the great beyond, but it just felt really weird to talk about that less than 24 hours after my grandmother had passed. (And my co-host asked me if I needed to postpone the podcast, and I told him, "No way in hell. I need to do this. It'll make me feel better.")

It was definitely weird to discuss this topic, but I kinda felt like it was ok, that somewhere, my grandmother might have been telling me that it was ok to go on with my life, because I felt happier from it, and more relaxed. Or maybe it was the coffee and fact that I didn't have to go to work today...Who knows? :)

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