My grandmother passed away last week and it's taken me some time to put things in perspective.
She lived to a ripe old age of 85, however, at her funeral service there were less than 10 people. Reminded me of Eleanor Rigby. She was very social and had been a teacher for 30 years, had 9 brothers and sisters and a large, fragmented extended family. However, being in Delhi and away from everyone, she had to be put to rest with only 3-4 people around her.
Being asocial and not having people to fall back on, I don't have anyone to share my sadness or happiness with.
My son was born on March 25th. I have not been able to indulge in his birth and share my happiness with anyone. It's a sad, sad situation and it's getting a little bizarre.
My life is a cigarette, and as I'm approaching 30, I realise I'm already half-way through my journey. However, I'm not sure what I've achieved. Death of a loved one always makes you muse about Existentialism, especially after vodka.
I hope I've been able to touch a few lives and will be remembered after I'm gone.
Death is the greatest leveller and as I sit and sort through my Coeen's meagre belongings, I realise we come into this world with nothing and go with nothing. In between, if we can create something worthy- like new life or art, it may, just may be worth it.
Let's hope for the best.
Sorry for your loss. Hope granma's passing was in peace and she lives on your mutual good memories which are cherished for life.
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