“You are my sunshine…”

My great grandmother looked into my eyes and sang that song to me when I cried. My great grandfather had died, and she sang that song to calm me down when she herself had tears in her eyes. I knew it was selfish of me to only think of my own emotional distress, but I didn’t care.

“You make me happy when skies are gray…”

After my great grandfather’s death I went to my great grandmother’s house almost every day. After a while I started hating her, because she made me clean up while she lay in her bed. “Lazy bitch!” I said that all the time. One day I would say it loud enough for her to hear.

“You never know dear…”

One day she made me so mad. She was frying fish for a Sunday night dinner, and I was mopping the floor for her. As I was mopping near the stove, some scolding hot grease popped on me, and I dropped the mop, tipping the pail of water over. I began to cry, scratching the spot where I was popped. “That’s what you get, maybe your ass won’t be so venturous, and try to see what fire feels like.” I didn’t understand, here I was trying to help her out for Sunday night dinner and she was sitting here being so mean and hateful. That night I wished she were dead, sucking the burn for comfort.

“How much I love you…”


The next day seemed to be filled with hot acid. Every breath hurt as if it were being liquidly burned away. I had a bad feeling about that day, but I didn’t say anything. Usually when I have bed feelings something bad happens. I don’t know maybe it was just heartburn. I was eating a little bit too much that day.

“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

That night she died, but I didn’t cry. I knew why she had died. My death wish had fallen upon her, and there was nothing I could do about it.