When my grandmother was on her deathbed, we all went to see her one last time. I saw her bid farewell to everyone with kindness, but when I approached her, she ordered everyone to leave and glared at me with a hideous expression.
There was no trace of kindness on her face. She grabbed me with all her strength and bit my ear, leaving a gaping wound that remains to this day.
Amidst the blood, my grandmother’s hoarse, weathered voice whispered a sentence in my ear, “You’re not one of the Ford Family. You monster, get out!”
And with those last words, she passed away.
After that, my parents hated me even more. They believed that I had said something to provoke Grandma, causing her to die with hatred. They didn't take me to the hospital to treat my ear, leaving a noticeable gap.
Moreover, I remember that grandma's family was among the first to be relocated to a new rural area and they had long since stopped using firewood. She had many children and most of the time, they took turns staying at their parents' homes. The old house was mostly locked and they rarely cooked there.