Today's post is real personal, so don't get your panties in a knot.
Last night, when I came home from a mates house with my parents, my sister told us that we had got a call from India, normal enough I know, but she seemed really uneasy, the call from India was urgent, she said.
Course.
We feared for the worst.
Mum dialed the number, seemed to take forever.
My uncle picked up the phone and told us the news.
My mum's uncle had died.
I didn't even know him. He was just another familiar face.
The scariest thing was that I didn't know where I stood. At all.
I was completely off guard, I didn't even know how to react, whether I should be sad, grateful the news wasn't about my grandpa, nothing.
I was feeling guilt you know, because I wasn't sad. But should I?
Should I feel sad?
Theres only so far empathy can go.
I didn't know him. I met him maybe once.
It really bothered me.
You may be thinking, "Oh dude, all you think is where you stand? What about your family?"
Well if I did know, I wouldn't be writing here, and again, how can I feel what I haven't experienced?
I guess its the price we have to pay by living here.
I think thats just another thing we have to live with, our whole family is in India, I don't know all of them and because we're down here, we miss out on so much. I missed the whole extended family thing all together.
It's quite confusing, to determine where you stand when it comes to this, you just don't know what happens, whats gonna happen. You miss out on so much general knowledge, almost the whole culture flies over your head, and when you finally get the chance to go meet your family, you feel like complete outsiders.
I guess you think that our family back in India should be mature enough to look pass this, and they probably are, but it really saddens me.
I miss out on the joys and the pain they endure also, like yesterday.
Completely separated.
I haven't really understood where I stand, but I think I will.
"Death is terrifying because it is so ordinary. It happens all the time." - Susan Cheever.
-Shazz.
