My grandfather is a moral monster. He sexually and physically abused my mother as a child so badly that she has only a meager supply of self-worth remaining. He's always been unfaithful to my grandmother and he used to sexually harass my mom's friends and babysitters while she was growing up. He's also always saying horribly racist things (too terrible to repeat), and he's a huge Trump supporter (for all kinds of racist and xenophobic reasons).

So you'd think everyone would hate him, right? Not at all. Because the patriarchy is so insanely efficient and hegemonic in my small midwestern hometown, the women in the family (my mother and grandmother) continue to pretend that he's a saint. They dote on him constantly and wait on him hand and foot. They care more about appearing to be a happy, functional family to everyone else in my hometown than they do about anything else. When my mom was abused by him constantly as a child, no one ever called the cops. They'd just keep her home from school until her bruises healed and pretend she had the flu.

My grandfather has an aggressive terminal form of cancer. I can't wait until he's gone. This world will unequivocally be a better place when he's dead.

It's getting pretty awkward because people who don't know what a horrible person he really is keep expressing sympathy to me for his illness. I just accept it and say thank you, but I wish I could tell them how terrible he really is and how happy I'll be when he's finally dead.

Good riddance, asshole.