I'm glad you're...

I’m glad you’re dead.

I returned from a family vacation to an email from my estranged brother. “I have sad news” it started solemnly. You, my iconic stepmother, had died in your sleep, recently after you had started taking heart medication. I quickly formulated a theory – what happens to someone who takes medication for an organ they do not have?

I called my brother and worked hard to excise the glee from my voice. I felt shackles loosen, years of abuse and restraint lift and I felt peaceful, and happy. I spoke with my brother while gesticulating with joy to my husband that you were finally gone. It was and is very simple: I am glad you are dead.

After our conversation, I got ready and left for work. I wanted to do something to celebrate, like jump in the pool, race golf carts or at least smash some balls around -- tennis or golf -- I wasn’t particular. I was free.

Several months later I saw my brother for the first time in 10 years. I mentioned my theory about heart medication killing someone without one and he, as always competitive, said, “I can do you one better.”

My husband asked, “Does it come from the Wizard of Oz?”

“Ding dong, the witch is dead, the wicked witch, the witch is dead.”

In fact, I had heard the same music in my mind playing when i read the “sad” news.

I hope you’re dancing in your grave.