I can't wait for the night to be...

The post I wouldn't post until I got my bear:

I thought I could avoid it, them, everything.

I really thought I could.

I thought that passing by him daily on campus would be the limit to my interaction with them for the rest of her life.

I was wrong. But you know what, I don't care. Because getting that bear means more to me than anything. I'd sit there and listen to her bitch about everyone in my family, and spit lies till her face turns blue if it means I can have that bear. That I can have that part of my grandpa. And that she can't.

She doesn't deserve it. She doesn't deserve to look like me, or make my mom's life hell almost everyday because she won't have contact with us. She doesn't get the right to lie about one of the greatest men I've ever known, because my grandpa is one of the reasons I have such high standards for men. She doesn't get to make my grandma feel belittled, or wrong. She doesn't get that right to do that to any of us anymore.

Maybe the bear won't change that much. Maybe it won't do anything besides give me the satisfaction of going to see her, and being strong.  For giving my mom this opportunity to ask for this one thing, to have the satisfaction of having her respond. Maybe the only thing is that I'll have something from my grandpa, that's going to mean more to me than I can put into words.

The post I'm writing now, with my bear right next to me:

I've got it. And it's bittersweet.

Because now I've opened up the can of worms for the family again.

I don't like to hear my grandma cry over you, because you don't deserve it anymore.

You don't deserve anything from any of us. Which is why I didn't give you the satisfaction of telling you everything about you I despise.  You don't get to make any of us feel this way anymore.

I have Grandpa's bear now. I love him, and I'm going to keep him safe. I did what I could, and I just wish I could have gotten it back earlier. But I have him now.

And that's the end of the story.