My grandma died in Journal

And I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Nope. I do. I just don’t like it.
I wish my grandma was a different person… That grief is still there and that means that I’m denying reality.
When I searched online, I found her obit right away. The funeral service had a video copy of the entire thing. I watched some of it. Saw her laying in the casket. Saw family members milling about. I immediately thought it was weird that my cousin had messaged me and never mentioned that I wasn’t at the funeral. And I wonder why she wouldn’t mention it.
I think it’s so weird that I would decide that one member of my family was and continues to be too abusive to have in my life, and everyone drops me like a hot potato. No one asks me about it. No one is the least bit curious. Everyone is very happy to stay with whatever story my mom or both parents have.
I’m reminded of seeing my midwife, pregnant with Lexi, and she asked if my mom was going to watch W. I told her we were not talking, and my midwife said, “I knew the relationship was strained…”. My mw met my mom one time, briefly. One time. And she’s the ONLY person to ever have mentioned anything remotely resembling concern about this relationship, for my entire life.
Anywho. I wonder sometimes as I often did even as gma was still in my life, if my mom was telling the truth about what happened. My mom is a liar. And her story is conveniently damning for everyone except herself. But I am aware that she was the child in her own time and her parents were responsible. So I wonder how much of my mom’s story is true. I know that my gma is also a liar. I have never gotten a straight answer from her, either. She is exhaustingly manipulative and indirect. Well, was. I know that I would never have gotten anything true or useful out of her. And even if I did by some miracle, how could I have trusted it?
And, still I wonder.
It’s a wonder that will never have satisfaction. The slim chance that it might’ve died with gma.