I found out about it on Wednesday. He died on the 12th.
In this age of instantaneous world-wide connections, how I ask can news travel so slowly? The answer is simple: It was spite. Pure, black-hearted spite.
It was also --and I choose my words carefully-- a conspiracy. My Aunt Terri conspired with all the other Texas people to keep this information from us, knowing exactly how fucked up that is, and doing it anyway.
There are so many unanswered questions about Grandpa's death, and no one can be trusted to be straight with us. It's a damn shame.
You can read an obituary here. Somehow my comment made it, though my Mom's hasn't. Hmmm...
If a commenter so chooses, the website allows people to send you messages. I sent this to my Aunt Terri:
I didn't think it is possible but you have reached a new low. Seeing this obituary made me want to puke. You write gushingly about the passing of this great man, but couldn't resist being disrespectful to his memory. He was loved not just by you and Bill, by Sam and Liz, by Emily, but BY US ALL. He has grandkids and great-grandkids who loved him and will mourn his passing.
Do not expect the same when you're gone. You will have no kids. No grandkids. No great-grandkids. Your vision of this family will die with you.
And the family will live on without you.
You can't hurt us anymore. There are no more graves you can defile, no more legacies you can disrespect. This is the last gasp of a sad old woman who has already been disowned. I hope you enjoy it.