There he goes again.

When i visit my grandma's grave, i feel nothing, not because i don't care, but because i don't feel her there. I feel her at home, in my room, in her old room, in the kitchen, in the living room... I feel her there because my memories of her are there. I feel her in church, not because i am a believer of my family's faith--I'm not, but because many childhood Sundays were spent with her there.  i don't make the sign of the cross at her grave because i feel like I'm lying. I believe in her spirit, not the holy trinity, and her spirit is not there where she's buried, it is home, where she belongs.

It really angered me that my father assumed that because I didn't do a silly Catholic gesture that I was disrespecting my grandmother.