Portrait

death is always saddening, for those of us that get left behind.

i remember all too well what it’s like to lose someone incredibly close to you. i also remember standing at my aunt’s funeral, looking at my cousins, and thinking to myself ‘that will be me someday’ and wanting to just cease existing, just so i would never have to live to see my parents die.

losing my mother is my absoloute worst nightmare. i selfishly imagine her always being there, never having to get through life without her. never having to cope with the turmoil of my day to day existence without her irrepressible faith, courage and wisdom.

i never knew nihal de silva, not apart from his writing, but i know his nieces and nephew, and i even sort of know his sons. i’ve hung out with them a few times, we have some friends in common, and they were always really nice and very interesting.

i tried to call nihal de silva’s niece and my good, good friend R when i heard, but i hung up almost immediately because i remember how mad i was at everyone that called me during my aunt’s funeral. although i tried hard to keep in mind that everyone only had the best intentions, it was difficult to refrain from being pissed off at the tactless inquiries and insensitive questions. i went to the funeral yesterday, mostly because i wanted to be there for R and her sister, and i stratiegically avoided speaking to either of his sons, simply because i didn’t know what to say. i remember all too well how awkward and irritating it was to stand there and be kissed by hundreds of people after my aunt’s funeral, stuttering to make conversation that would seem normal, and me, trying to figure out a response to ‘i’m so sorry for your loss’ by people who had no idea how sorry to be.

indi has a great post on this. i think we are all fairly sick of having to live in troubled times, but it always hurts more when the ones we love become the ones we’re left to mourn.