Let me start out by saying this - if you are a member of my family, there is a possibility that you will NOT want to read this entry. I need to get some things out there (therapy costs too much, so this is the next best thing) and I do not want your perceptions changing when it comes to me talking about Grandpa's cremation. Any person reading this who knows me knows that my grandpa meant the absolute world to me. He was the one male in my life who treated me with respect no matter what I did, he was never mean to me, he loved me for the person I was and for the person that I wanted to become. When I was growing up, I was a terrible teen, which made living with my grandparents a chore for us all. I would stay out late without calling, I stole their vehicles, and I had parties when they were gone. Somehow they managed to still love me. When Grandpa got sick and it was pretty much inevitable that he was going to die, I prayed that God would take me instead. I felt like I...