She was murdered, y’know. My mother was.
She was murdered by the tobacco bastards.
They got her hooked. And she smoked and smoked and smoked and smoked herself right into the grave.
So the evil greed-masters did her in.
Oh, well. We all have to die of something, eh?
She lived long enough to see her grandson. Briefly. My son was born while she was hammering at death’s door…there in her bed floating on drugs and soaking up pain. When I brought him to her, a newborn infant, and showed him to her as she lay on her deathbed, she took one brief look at him, shrugged, and said “Meh!”
Nope. She didn’t care that she had a grandson. She was too damn sick to care.
There ya go, folks! That’s what tobacco does for you. Makes you not care one thin damn about the people around you.
A lot has happened since that grim evening. My son is now a grown man with an excellent degree and a fine job. I’ve made myself unemployable by getting my own degree, a Ph.D. I’ve written books. We’ve traveled around the world. My son landed an excellent position in the insurance industry. Life has gone on.
I just wish her life had gone on, too…
Ohhhh well. You can’t have everything, eh?
So much evil in this world. So much of it manufactured for profit…