The “PERSON”, “HE”, and “HIM” in this letter happened to be my maternal grandfather. He divorced my grandmother long before I was born, and Nan married the man I grew up knowing and loving as, my grandfather. Little did I know until my senior year of high school that (Surprise!) THAT guy wasn’t actually my “blood” grandfather. This guy in New Jersey (who never remarried and allegedly liked the occasional nookie from whores), was. Go figure. Sure I wanted him to come to my wedding. But there was my mother filling my head with the necessary commentary one needs to hear right before their big day. You know, I’m beginning to wonder if my mother (Surprise!) is really my mother…
Dementia is when the brain has deteriorated and the person cannot function rationally. So, anything he says is questionable. So, STAY AWAY from him before the wedding ’cause he’s trouble with a capital ‘T’.
I’ve tried to hire a reputable woman for him but he’d rather have his prostitutes! His friends (Frank, the barber) told me to stay away from him and concentrate on my own life. They all know he’s weird! Don’t worry. If he goes to wedding, Nan and I will gag and bind him! We’ll take care of him.
P.S. $20 is for a pizza for you and Maria.