xyzzy
I don't really know why I'm writing this. Guess I'll get some sort of closure from this but even then does it really matter? What is even the point of trying to comfort myself here? I don't even know if I feel grief or am I only feeling something that I'm supposed to, and even then I didn't cry or necessarily want to hide or anything like that. I just lived like normal with the knowledge that I'll never see my paternal grandfather ever again. Nor will I ever see my paternal grandmother or my maternal grandfather, seeing as I've missed their funerals too.
It's been so long that I can't even recall which grandparent I lost first. Might've been my maternal grandfather (Daddy, no not that kind you sick fucks). It was around a year after we came back from our 2 week trip in India. My mom got news that Daddy was really really sick and she really wanted to go visit him. On the way back from dropping her off at the airport we got news that Daddy died. I remember covering my mouth in shock but feeling literally nothing. I didn't want to cry about his death or laugh at the irony or do anything. I just lived as per usual. Had a test to study for, I think. Externals were close. There was no way I could go.
Similar sort of story for my paternal grandmother (Biji). Passed away, dad had to go visit. Similar reaction. Didn't feel anything. Still don't really feel anything about it, other than it's not really funny. I couldn't go with my dad to her funeral. Had a test to study for, I think. Externals were close. There was no way I could go.
This was in 2015 so I'd forgotten how it felt. Or rather, how it didn't feel. I've always heard that death affects people in different ways, but certainly no one feels nothing about it, aside from hearing that shit in sad alt rock songs made for angsty teens. Either way I'd forgotten about that experience, and just kind of put aside in the back of my mind the fact that Daddy will never call me on the phone and refer to me as "Dr. Karan Singh" ever again, nor will Biji ever ask me how school is going. It was one of those things I had internalised but never thought of.
Fast forward to end of 2018 start of 2019. My paternal grandfather (Bauji) is now 90 years old, going on 91. Or 89 going on 90, I forget. He's struggling with the onset of dementia and eye problems, but most of his body functions fairly well. He was in good spirits overall when he came over here a few years prior, so I guess given the age and how long it'd been since he visited, that this sort of stuff would start kicking in. My dad was very keen on visiting home to see him, and he asked me to come along as well, seeing as I hadn't seen Biji or Daddy for a long while before they passed. Around this time is when the whole Redzone debacle happened, and some dumb thing in my mind told me not to go with my dad, since his trip would be right before Redzone. Hence I declined.
Every day since then it haunted me that I wasn't going to go. The last two deaths in my family I couldn't visit due to circumstance, however this was my own choice. I hated myself every waking minute. I couldn't stand to look at video games, turning me into such a reprehensible creature who wouldn't even see his grandfather in his (possibly) dying times. I looked to games as some sort of solace and some alternative life where I didn't want to deal with the day to day dealings of my awful life, but now they were the cause of me feeling like shit. I tried really hard to ignore this, and took an impromptu trip to Australia for CouchWarriors Crossup. I tried incredibly hard to forget this and focus on trying to prepare for Redzone, but every time I'd wake up I would remember this awful decision I made. CouchWarriors Crossup was ultimately still a fun weekend but I was partially a mental wreck, despite my best efforts to hide it.
My dad went and came, and Bauji was in a fairly well condition. I think he got an operation for glaucoma and it went well, so his vision was no longer a problem. However, as Redzone came my anxiety and grief kept growing. I didn't want to talk to anyone about this since I felt like a complete loser for letting things get to this stage. In hindsight, calling it off and going to see my grandfather would have been a much better call for my mental stability for the whole year, but what can you do.
I was now wracked with the possibility that Bauji would somehow pass away after seeing dad, since it would clear up some last wishes or something. Would be real funny huh? Would be incredibly anime at least. Every day I had nightmares about this. This seeped into the Redzone weekend, and my mental state was in gigantic shambles. This is partially the reason what happened that Sunday. I didn't want to mention it out of some weird fear of superstition that mentioning such a personal fear could manifest itself and I'd be the cause of Bauji's death somehow.
Trying really hard to put this behind me, we finally arrive to November 2019. Bauji's health is in total shambles and he deals with a lot of medical conditions. He had a urine and fecal bag attached to him. He would wake up at nights and forget what his condition was like. Lots of other stuff that came with his general physical and mental deterioration. My parents were really interested in visiting Bauji for what now really seemed like his final times. I again declined, however this time it was for clearing up what would be my final year of university and trying to solidify a post academia life for myself. Somewhat confident that this time I wasn't making a selfish decision that had 0 hindsight in it, I felt relatively at peace as I sent off my parents to see Bauji.
The night that my parents came back from India, Bauji passed away. It seems that my family had taken him to the nearby major hospital for some general checkup, and the doctor said that there was not a lot he could do anymore after patching up his foodpipe, and he passed away on the road trip back. Guess this time he really was done after seeing my dad and mom for the last time.
Dad overslept for the first time that I had ever witnessed and missed out on hearing this news as early as he could and he was shocked when my sister woke him up when she read the news through our family chat. Mom was distraught. I didn't really know what to feel yet again. I could have gone to visit him and I didn't, yet of course I had to focus on finishing up my studies and try to plan ahead, right? It balances out. Plus Bauji would have wanted to see his own son rather than me. I'd have disappointed him anyway by being a failure at studying, the one skill I had that my family thought was noble. No one actually cared for me back there anyway, they all pretended to do so on the phone. What a joke. Eh, no one will read this anyway so who cares.
I sit here on my bed listening to the 25th repeat playback of a guitar cover of Gangsta's Paradise by Luca Stricagnoli, once again wondering what the point of my life is.
It's been so long that I can't even recall which grandparent I lost first. Might've been my maternal grandfather (Daddy, no not that kind you sick fucks). It was around a year after we came back from our 2 week trip in India. My mom got news that Daddy was really really sick and she really wanted to go visit him. On the way back from dropping her off at the airport we got news that Daddy died. I remember covering my mouth in shock but feeling literally nothing. I didn't want to cry about his death or laugh at the irony or do anything. I just lived as per usual. Had a test to study for, I think. Externals were close. There was no way I could go.
Similar sort of story for my paternal grandmother (Biji). Passed away, dad had to go visit. Similar reaction. Didn't feel anything. Still don't really feel anything about it, other than it's not really funny. I couldn't go with my dad to her funeral. Had a test to study for, I think. Externals were close. There was no way I could go.
This was in 2015 so I'd forgotten how it felt. Or rather, how it didn't feel. I've always heard that death affects people in different ways, but certainly no one feels nothing about it, aside from hearing that shit in sad alt rock songs made for angsty teens. Either way I'd forgotten about that experience, and just kind of put aside in the back of my mind the fact that Daddy will never call me on the phone and refer to me as "Dr. Karan Singh" ever again, nor will Biji ever ask me how school is going. It was one of those things I had internalised but never thought of.
Fast forward to end of 2018 start of 2019. My paternal grandfather (Bauji) is now 90 years old, going on 91. Or 89 going on 90, I forget. He's struggling with the onset of dementia and eye problems, but most of his body functions fairly well. He was in good spirits overall when he came over here a few years prior, so I guess given the age and how long it'd been since he visited, that this sort of stuff would start kicking in. My dad was very keen on visiting home to see him, and he asked me to come along as well, seeing as I hadn't seen Biji or Daddy for a long while before they passed. Around this time is when the whole Redzone debacle happened, and some dumb thing in my mind told me not to go with my dad, since his trip would be right before Redzone. Hence I declined.
Every day since then it haunted me that I wasn't going to go. The last two deaths in my family I couldn't visit due to circumstance, however this was my own choice. I hated myself every waking minute. I couldn't stand to look at video games, turning me into such a reprehensible creature who wouldn't even see his grandfather in his (possibly) dying times. I looked to games as some sort of solace and some alternative life where I didn't want to deal with the day to day dealings of my awful life, but now they were the cause of me feeling like shit. I tried really hard to ignore this, and took an impromptu trip to Australia for CouchWarriors Crossup. I tried incredibly hard to forget this and focus on trying to prepare for Redzone, but every time I'd wake up I would remember this awful decision I made. CouchWarriors Crossup was ultimately still a fun weekend but I was partially a mental wreck, despite my best efforts to hide it.
My dad went and came, and Bauji was in a fairly well condition. I think he got an operation for glaucoma and it went well, so his vision was no longer a problem. However, as Redzone came my anxiety and grief kept growing. I didn't want to talk to anyone about this since I felt like a complete loser for letting things get to this stage. In hindsight, calling it off and going to see my grandfather would have been a much better call for my mental stability for the whole year, but what can you do.
I was now wracked with the possibility that Bauji would somehow pass away after seeing dad, since it would clear up some last wishes or something. Would be real funny huh? Would be incredibly anime at least. Every day I had nightmares about this. This seeped into the Redzone weekend, and my mental state was in gigantic shambles. This is partially the reason what happened that Sunday. I didn't want to mention it out of some weird fear of superstition that mentioning such a personal fear could manifest itself and I'd be the cause of Bauji's death somehow.
Trying really hard to put this behind me, we finally arrive to November 2019. Bauji's health is in total shambles and he deals with a lot of medical conditions. He had a urine and fecal bag attached to him. He would wake up at nights and forget what his condition was like. Lots of other stuff that came with his general physical and mental deterioration. My parents were really interested in visiting Bauji for what now really seemed like his final times. I again declined, however this time it was for clearing up what would be my final year of university and trying to solidify a post academia life for myself. Somewhat confident that this time I wasn't making a selfish decision that had 0 hindsight in it, I felt relatively at peace as I sent off my parents to see Bauji.
The night that my parents came back from India, Bauji passed away. It seems that my family had taken him to the nearby major hospital for some general checkup, and the doctor said that there was not a lot he could do anymore after patching up his foodpipe, and he passed away on the road trip back. Guess this time he really was done after seeing my dad and mom for the last time.
Dad overslept for the first time that I had ever witnessed and missed out on hearing this news as early as he could and he was shocked when my sister woke him up when she read the news through our family chat. Mom was distraught. I didn't really know what to feel yet again. I could have gone to visit him and I didn't, yet of course I had to focus on finishing up my studies and try to plan ahead, right? It balances out. Plus Bauji would have wanted to see his own son rather than me. I'd have disappointed him anyway by being a failure at studying, the one skill I had that my family thought was noble. No one actually cared for me back there anyway, they all pretended to do so on the phone. What a joke. Eh, no one will read this anyway so who cares.
I sit here on my bed listening to the 25th repeat playback of a guitar cover of Gangsta's Paradise by Luca Stricagnoli, once again wondering what the point of my life is.
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