#68: Grades and my family (part 5)

I didn’t consider myself close to my dad’s mom (notice I don’t call her my grandmother). I used to call her Nana when I was little. That is, when I actually saw her. She was so wrapped up in her work all the time that she never had time for her only spawn of her children. I am not her grandchild. I refuse to acknowledge myself as such because a grandchild indicates a level of love and happiness, none of which I felt from her. When she was in the hospital with cancer, I spent more time with her those three weeks than I had in all my 16 years of life. I was never good enough for her.  I mean I guess I was because she never bothered to visit me. She came up for my birthday once. Other than that she did phone on important holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving, but that’s about it. My great grandmother on my mom’s side comes up every year for my birthday and she makes an effort to come see me from South Carolina (where most of my family lives) a few times a year AND SHE DOESN’T EVEN DRIVE!!! I never really knew what it was like to have a grandmother like everyone talked about theirs, but my great grandmother was the only one who gave me a glimpse of what it was like to have a real grandmother.