The grass is always greener on the other side...

You know what I can't stand? I can't stand people talking about the night my Grandmother passed away as if they were there. I can't stand hearing their narratives in voices brimming over with emotion. I can't stand to see their eyes go all glassy and their faces contort into their own definitions of grief...or sympathy...or pity. Or all three.
I can understand why they would do it - especially my mother and her siblings. They wished that they had been there. It hurts them most I think, that they couldn't be in the same room. Closure...I think that's what it's called. They didn't get closure. So, I guess talking about it, is a sort of catharsis for them.
But it doesn't mean that I have to like it, just because I can understand it.
I know, many would think me cold or hard-hearted. After all, it was their own mother who passed away...but you know what: it bugs me. It really bugs me. It irks me so much, that often I have to leave the room for fear of saying something that I'll regret. As Thumper's Dad in Bambi said, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all".
And every night I close my eyes, and see those last moments over and over again. And I can't help but curl my lip in disgust at the powder-puff memories that everyone else has. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't sweet. It wasn't contented, or peaceful. It wasn't like something from the silver screen. It was terrifying. And each time I remember that I stood so close to Death, I shiver. Each time I remember the look on my Grandmothers face, my heart shudders inside my chest.
I can't stand the false and fluffy narrations. I can't stand it when they talk about it as if they were there. They were not there. I was left alone to figure out what to do, when I didn't even realise what it was that was happening before me. Closure? It seems futile to me. I was there, and I didn't even get closure.
I can't tell them that of course, it would be too cruel. Rather leave them with their pretty pictures of death...and false memories to sooth their guilty consciences.