What a day. It was pretty much a waste of a day, nothing in the morning and in the afternoon, nothing in the evening and underneath the moon. But there are some things I've got to get out, even though it's 2:00am and my alarm is set for 5:30am and I have a test tomorrow a big test an important test and I'm only going to get about 2 hours to studay for the most important part of the test but I've got to get this out now I've got to I've got I've.
Haha. No never mind that, I'm just a little wound up, I guess. It's been a day of endings, mostly. Something happened and something ended - perhaps forever, almost certainly for a long, long time. Strangely (for me), I'm not feeling very depressed. Possible reasons: (a) it's been trying to end for a long, long time now, and it's time just had to come, I guess, and (b) I've been and gotten depressed about it the day before and particularly yesterday, so I'm pretty much done being sad about it.
Insert pregnant pause.
Oh, what the hell, let me admit it - the lack of depression is atleast partially because the ending was accompanied by a
beginning, again, of sorts. Well, not a beginning. A going-back. Oh, I don't know. Maybe - probably (- but if? And then? -) I'm reading too much into it (I always read too much into everything), but then again, isn't it true, that every ending is really a beginning? Then I'm safe, because whichever way you look at it, the ending that was, was definately an ending. I'm going to make sure of that.
Endings also mean death, and I've had a bit of that today was well. Was chatting (?) with a friend whose uncle passed away yesterday. I don't know too much about death. Some parts of it - the dead bodies, the final-endings, the knowing-they'll-never-be-around-no-mores - I just can't stand. The only really close death I've known so far has been my grandad.
It's funny, I just remembered that that's not the closest death I've known recently. Technically, the closest (or the one which affected me the most) would have to be Sania's cat, Bozo. He was caught by the management of our building complex and abandoned near some police quarters some distance away. We never found him, despite two (or was it three?) days of searching. Bozo was one of those cats who you become genuinely fond of, and who (like some people) was obnoxiously easy to fall in love with. He was an extremely homely cat, and it was really depressing thinking of him dying in what must have been a lonely, painful way. I can't imagine how Sania or her family must have taken it, but it got me feeling down for days. I think it affected my cat, too - Yoko seemed a lot jumpier than usual around that time, and suddenly stayed at home for a couple of day continuously, a feat he hadn't perfomed since he was a kitten. But I digress down the path of Cat, and it is the part of Death to which I must return.
(To continue, ) with close people - immediate family (and by immediate, I only meant mother-father-sister-cat), relatives you're close to, close friends, people you love - death is relatively easy to handle (or is it?), because there's nothing to handle (am I wrong?) - it's sadness, depression, loneliness, missing-ness, and no-way-out until finally time (and family) (and friends) heal all wounds. But with people you're not so close to - or people you have ambiguous feelings towards - it's weird. There are quite a few people in my life to who's death I wouldn't know how to react to (relax - if you're reading this page, odds are you aren't one of them). But yeah, they exist, and they're going to die some day. Perhaps I should make sure that if I'm not sad that they've died, I should atleast be happy - not mixed, twisted, wound-up, in a weird intermediate position.
I just don't know. I never fully figured out my granddad's death. I can't remember my other granddad. Okay, "granddad" sounds weird, so let me just use one of the only Marathi words I use often (
Ajoba, n. sometimes shortened to
Ajo or
Abba, meaning Grandfather. Pronounced with a 'z' sound on the 'j' which is impossible to speak if you don't know Marathi). I'll write more about this some other day (I have to be in bed in ten minutes,
tops), but - yeah. I never quite figured it out. I like the way my family handled it - quietly, matter-of-factly - but perhaps I was just too far removed from the scene (of Death, the final scene of the play of life). I had a choice, you know. To go or to stay. I chose to stay, and I don't think I'll ever be able to think of death without wishing I had gone. Ah, well. Maybe - who knows? - I made the better choice after all. I should ask my sister,
she went, but she didn't have a choice. I should ask my sister. I remember trying to be sensitive about it around my Aji (n. fem. grandmother, and
guess what, the 'j' is just an ordinary hard Hindi-like J now! Haha, isn't Marathi fantastic?), but I'm not sure it either helped or hurt in any way. I suspect that that's how I'm going to be dealing with death from now on, though. A closing of books, a closing of doors, a closing of eyes, a closing of lives. The end. Thank you for watching, you've been a wonderful audience, now turn me into ash and feed crows one day every year, there's a good lad. I'm going to sleep now, won't be up for a while, but don't let that get you down. Good night, sweet dreams, and God (yes, he exists, I've met him already!) bless you. Yet, I don't think I'm going to be able to deal with it that way when my closest-of-closest pass away. I really truely have no idea how I'm going to handle it when and if that happens.
But then again, who does?
This post was posted by Unknown at 2:02 am
