channonyarrow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
channonyarrow) wrote2004-02-03 09:21 pm
channonyarrow) wrote2004-02-03 09:21 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
So. My grandfather's dying.
This is not something that concerns me overly much - the man hasn't spoken to anyone I know in 15 years, and has dementia at the moment, evidently from lack of oxygen during a heart attack, so he doesn't even know anyone who's spoken to him.
I haven't gone to see him, and I'm not going to. I sincerely doubt that I will go for the funeral.
And yet I feel ashamed that I don't care. Life in society is all about fitting in to that society, and part of what I see of society's rules is that it never is a matter of total disinterest when someone is dying. At least if that person is related to you.
I can't pretend an interest I don't have. And because of my issues with my father - some of which stem from my grandfather's behaviour - I can't particularly sympathise with him - I actually wound up debating whether or not I should give him a hug or not.
This is my father. If I have reservations about hugging him, about acknowledging his grief, society by-and-large deems that to be ridiculous behaviour. And yet, I can't do it. Society's lowest-common-denominator, division-by-zero approach strikes again; we must conform to standards that are ridiculous for our personal lives simply because it is what society by and large expects.
On the individual level, of course, it's very different. Society (at least where I live, in the United States of Amerikkka) frowns on, say, BDSM. And yet the percentage of people who claim some aspect of a BDSM lifestyle is large and growing. On the individual level, my response is just fine, and it matters not one damn bit to me what society thinks.
Still, it says a lot that these two men, one of whom is dying, have provoked nothing in me beyond thoughts of what society-as-a-construct is and does. I'm related to both, I'm sure that I'm supposed to feel love for both, and yet they're merely there, one in my life and one not, rather like potted plants. I've even gotten over the guilt I used to feel about not giving a damn.
This is not something that concerns me overly much - the man hasn't spoken to anyone I know in 15 years, and has dementia at the moment, evidently from lack of oxygen during a heart attack, so he doesn't even know anyone who's spoken to him.
I haven't gone to see him, and I'm not going to. I sincerely doubt that I will go for the funeral.
And yet I feel ashamed that I don't care. Life in society is all about fitting in to that society, and part of what I see of society's rules is that it never is a matter of total disinterest when someone is dying. At least if that person is related to you.
I can't pretend an interest I don't have. And because of my issues with my father - some of which stem from my grandfather's behaviour - I can't particularly sympathise with him - I actually wound up debating whether or not I should give him a hug or not.
This is my father. If I have reservations about hugging him, about acknowledging his grief, society by-and-large deems that to be ridiculous behaviour. And yet, I can't do it. Society's lowest-common-denominator, division-by-zero approach strikes again; we must conform to standards that are ridiculous for our personal lives simply because it is what society by and large expects.
On the individual level, of course, it's very different. Society (at least where I live, in the United States of Amerikkka) frowns on, say, BDSM. And yet the percentage of people who claim some aspect of a BDSM lifestyle is large and growing. On the individual level, my response is just fine, and it matters not one damn bit to me what society thinks.
Still, it says a lot that these two men, one of whom is dying, have provoked nothing in me beyond thoughts of what society-as-a-construct is and does. I'm related to both, I'm sure that I'm supposed to feel love for both, and yet they're merely there, one in my life and one not, rather like potted plants. I've even gotten over the guilt I used to feel about not giving a damn.