Me-memories

...I try to feel grief, or pain, but instead I feel nothing, just can’t. What am I? Do I have no feelings for my loved ones at all…..?

I have always regarded myself as being quite normal and fortunate. When I look at others I feel so sorry for them. Why? Because someone in their family has passed away, I always try to sympathise with them, but it seems not to be worth it. I still think that I could never understand their pain, as I myself have not experienced such a tragedy. I am not saying that no one in my family has died. But then I was too young to understand. When I was four, I lost my grandfather (my mother’s father). He died of a heart attack in Bangladesh. I was constantly told by my mother that I was very close to him. Four years of my life I had known him, and yet I do not even have a small, tiny memory of him.

My sister was five at that time and today she is seventeen years of age and I myself am fourteen. At least she has a vague memory of our grandfather. I feel ashamed when I say that I have no memories of him…What must my family think of me? Everyone has some sort of a memory. Why is it that I have none at all? I remember asking my mother once, Why is it I cannot remember anything about my grandfather? She asked me what I meant but I didn’t say anything, feeling that it was wrong of me to ask such a question. Even today my mum still reminds me about my grandfather. No, I cannot help but feel greed and selfishness within myself.

Even when I lie down to sleep at night I think about it, but nothing seems to come out. I know it’s there somewhere at the back of my head, at least trying to make its way out, and soon I hope it will come to me. To make myself feel better, I say to myself that I am not completely forgetful; at least I remember the day that I heard the news of his death, but then again I say to myself that this is not a good memory. I would rather forget it and remember the good things, but what good things? To tell the truth even when I heard the news I didn’t feel much. I only felt really sorry for my mother; I was interested in how she took the news.

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She was calling for her father; which made me cry, not because my grandfather had died, but just because of the fact that my mother was crying. I felt so confused about how I felt. Why I was crying for my mother? Why wasn’t I crying for my beloved grandfather? The only time I cried for my grandfather was when I saw my mother mourning over his death and when I see myself cry, I feel as though I’m careless and that I shouldn’t cry. Why am I like this? Is it because I was four when he died ...

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