Friendly Fire

“I'm only waiting for death to come.” That’s what my grandmother said to me after she turned 90 last summer. It broke my heart and I said to myself: “I'm never going to start another fight with her again.” Then I began to look back on my life and I wondered why our relationship never was any closer. Ever since I've been a teenager I’m taking friendly fire from her. That's how I feel. She didn't like my friends, she didn't like my haircut, she didn't like what I was wearing, she didn’t like my music, she didn’t like my skateboard. For all my life I have been holding a shield on my left arm so she cannot hurt me with her words. The bullets hitting the metal have been a constant noise of my life. But I couldn't conform to her values. She hated homosexuals and she was against anyone who didn't believe in her god. I sacrificed our relationship in order to become a decent human being. At least that’s what I thought. But of course that is exactly what she does not like about me: indecency. And now it's too late and I only feel sad because I feel like it has been too late right from the beginning. Is not taking her serious the only way I'm able to have a relationship with her? Are we both just to stubborn? Can I reach out to her as long as she's still alive?