Ever since I lost my mother my relationship with God has taken a beating. Frankly, I’m pissed.
I’m sad because she grew up without a dad to watch over her. He bled to death when she was 18 months old. I’m annoyed that she was not always treated right by her relatives when she was but a child. I remember a story she told me: She asked her grandmother if she could please have a banana because she was hungry. Her grandmother said to her in Italian, “You can’t have that banana because you’re not a son of a Grasso.” What the hell is that all about? I can’t even imagine my grandparents ever saying that to me.
I’m angry because her childhood was cut short when…
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