The Potty Mouth Granny

I recently figured out that I’ve been having an existential crisis since 2018 when my cousin died and since she passed away, I’ve lost several more family members and friends. It’s like death has been holding me in a tight clutch. To the point where I think about death entirely too much.

Things that I ponder on a regular basis. Like what’s going to happen to my children and grandchildren when I die? They love me and need me. It’s hard for a motherless child regardless of their age. I lost my grandma when I was 13 and my mom when I was 36 and I’m still shook.

And then when I die, how would I die? Would I die of natural causes surrounded by those who love me or would I be beaten to death and tossed in a ditch? I know that’s some real twisted, sick shit to think about but I do.

And what happens when you die? Do you actually go to a place called heaven or hell? Heaven if you were a good person or hell if you wasn’t shit? Sometimes people are a combination of both so where do those people go when they die?

And if the concept of heaven or hell doesn’t exist, where does your spirit go when your body dies? Are you reincarnated until you reach nirvana or do you come back as a cockroach? Do your spirit floats off into space and kick it with the other spirits? Just imagine coming across a bastard like Hitler and getting an opportunity to smack him.

So many questions and no answers. I know that the moment you’re born, you’re going to die. That it’s inevitable. Fate. All true but isn’t fair. We should be able to pop up in our loved ones lives after we die like on the show “Charmed.” But that’s the little girl in me who still believes in magic although reality has shown me that dreams don’t always come true.