Monday, June 08, 2009


I just read my dad's post on this, and I felt compelled to write a bit myself.

My pop died. That should be a phrase which causes me to burst into tears, curl into fetal position and never leave the house, but it doesn't. Strange really as I cried for ages over a dog, and still occassionally mist up and this is a man who was my father' father, but really, I'm scarily fine. I feel nothing.

Basically, I never knew the man. He lived in another state when I was a child and we never saw him, but we had a replacement in my Nana's husband, a man who is always there and cares about myself and my brother greatly. This doesn't mean I don't have any memories of pop though. As a child I would recieve gifts and a letter from my pop's wife for my birthday, but this stopped on my 7th bithday when we recieved a letter saying he was in the hospital. Mum quietly conveyed to me that he'd had a heart attack and was very sick in the hospital. When we didn't recieve another letter, I wrote him off. He'd died as far as we knew and so that's what I assumed.

A talk years later with my father changed that. He said pop was still alive and kicking. Again, I felt nothing. I forgot about him again until I recieved a card from him, asking how I was forwarded through his step-daughter when I was 16. This card made me feel conflicted, as I realised 2 things with this card; 1. He was still alive and who was this man, and 2. why hadn't he asked about my brother or sent him a card, and why hadn't he contacted us before? These thoughts conflicted but eventually my procrastinating self won out, and I never replied.

The next I heard of him, my step-aunt rung me up to say he was dying and that he wanted to speak to me. At this point, I felt curious and a bit of pity. This caused me to say yes, yes I would speak to him to satisfy my curiousity and to ensure that an old man was at peace if the end was near. It was when I spoke to him that he asked about my brother, to which I said he was ok, and it was the first time he had shown any interest in my younger brother in my life. This annoyed me slightly, as he had 2 grandkids through my father, but he hadn't even put any effort into contacting one, sending him a letter or anything.

We ended up speaking twice, and to this day I still don't feel sad that I never met him, nor do I feel sad at his passing. I only hope that the old man didn't suffer unnecessary pain at the end, just as I would any other stranger.


Post a Comment

<< Home