What IS the correct response?

The woman who terrorized me for years is now dying as a result of her lifestyle of drug abuse and self-neglect. The psychological damage the woman has caused to myself and so many people in my family would probably cover a third of the DSM IV's list of problems.

When I learned of the fact that she was dying my initial thought was "I knew this was going to happen. Good. It is about time." I'm not sure if that makes me a good person or a wretch. The woman's been quite ill for months if not years now. Now, she's in a vegitative state and her body is being consumed by infection and rotting from the inside out.

This is one half of the couple that I didn't invite to the wedding. The couple that I refused to invite to the wedding and held my ground in the face of all arguments from my family. And, I add with a bitter sense of relief, the woman that I am not related to by blood.

Clear memories of this woman brutalizing me, attempting to drowned me, and generally making my life a confusing hell war with a nagging sense of familial obligation. I'm torn between the feeling of satisfaction that her poisionous life will finally end and guilt for that feeling of satisfaction.

I'm not sure what the proper thing to do here is. I know that Miss Post would probably not approve of my airing the familial dirty laundry here for the whole world to view. Dear Reader, I don't rightly give a damn how Miss Post views the world at the moment, though. Instead, I'm more concerned with how I view the world and the weight of the past years on my mind.

Some days it feels hellish because I'm so emotionally numb and trapped within myself. The memories and the effort to push them aside so I can deal with my day clash with the need to rid myself of the toxic thought patterns and self-image that I've developed as a result of those efforts and the damned memories.

Sometimes, I look forward to Alzheimers, as it would take away this hell. But then I remember, those things were imprinted early and will last long in my psyche. So, I'm damned to remember them until I'm on my death bed. And even then, I am probably going to be torn between the savage joy I feel as the liberation of the demon of dreading her presence in my life and the guilt for rejoicing over another's death.