Cascading Down

_{Or maybe growing up?}

---

A certain someone told me I should write blogs because I have “good writing ability” and “opinions tinged with a personality that is entertaining but a character that is kind”.

Do I agree?

Not exactly, but your outwards appearance and persona is not to be judged by yourself.

So I will just indulge him instead.

But that’s for another time, and a more serious one at that. This blog is about something else that’s been on my mind.
It all starts with the thought that popped in my head not terribly long ago that keeps resurfacing.

Indifference was a story that had a lot to do with my personal feelings on a certain person that died in my family. I had actually written two stories relating to that incident, but only one was uploaded due to the fact that I didn’t think the first one was that great. 

That, and I turned it into a horror story halfway, so the original meaning was all lost.

I kept the relation between the character and the deceased ambiguous. The reason was to make the story more relatable. I don’t know if I succeeded. But I do know I’m not the only person who has felt the same way I have.

See, the person who I can relate to is my grandmother, on my dad’s side. I have no problem telling anyone that I did not like her. Her feelings were also mutual towards me. I don’t have many memories of her, and the ones I do have are pretty negative.

One that stands out is when I was around six or seven years old, I don’t remember exactly what age. My aunt had a small dog that my brother and myself wanted to play with, and we were not in any sense rough with her. We weren’t stupid kids. Nevertheless, when the adults got done talking, she came back to me, my aunt, and brother playing with the dog she flipped out. She called me and my brother some pretty ridiculous stuff that I won’t repeat, and in turn caused my parents to freak out at her.

Long story short, we left fast, and on bad terms. 

I could go on and paint exactly how much of an incredibly rude and spiteful person she was. But it won’t do any good, and some of that stuff is kinda personal. 

When she passed, I didn’t feel anything. I wasn’t glad, but I wasn’t sad either. Just indifferent. I seriously debated even going to her funeral. To wrap it up nicely, her funeral was to be on my birthday. 

But I talked to my dad about it. He basically said that if I were to go, it would be for him, and not for her.

Which I already knew.

My mom said, “How do you think it would look, one of her only grandchildren not showing up?” 

You can guess how badly I took that one. 

I still ended up going and having a miserable time. My only solace was for one time in my life, my brother and I could go out legally drinking together. It doesn’t sound like a big deal, but our relationship is strained. It was nice that we could finally have an equal standing and talk.

But the actual funeral and wake were different. What was once indifference turned to malice, but I never voiced any of it until this day. I thought if every terrible thing she had done to me and my family and nothing could stop ‘em coming. 

When it was time to leave the graveyard, I remember thinking, “See you in hell.”

But something so vile made me feel guilty as sin. After all, if you believe it, Hell is the worst you can wish on someone. Was I that upset? Angry?

Probably. But I am also human. I knew exactly how that would go down if I let any of those emotions out. So I kept ‘em bottled up. It also means I sometimes can’t control how I think.

The human brain is really something, ain’t it?

~~~

So that ends that chapter. 

Am I a bad person for thinking those thoughts?

I don’t think so. Once again, sometimes we really can’t control what we think. Even worse, sometimes we can’t control what we say, either. Hindsight is always 20/20, so maybe it’s what we think about what we thought about afterwards that really matters.

Apologies are always the hardest thing to say. And I still haven’t apologized for thinking like how I did. I feel bad for thinking them, but I always get stuck on how she treated me before I can apologize to her or whatever deity exists. 

I’m only human I guess. But I know some people who think these kinds of things are not able to be apologized for. And I would completely understand if my family or my grandmother never forgave me. 

Sometimes you just have to accept that you can never have closure. In a perfect world, maybe. 

But especially in these times, we’re far from that, aren’t we?

Comments

[B_25]

Everyone seeks a kind of resolution I think. Closure may never come. But most can find a form of resolution.

Good blog homie. I would write more if I could. Please continue to do more when you feel able and it's right to do them.
~ Yr. Pal, B