There’s another lifelong result that goes along with being such a cold-hearted bastard about too many things: guilt.
At certain points in most people’s lives (regardless of how rough they’ve had it), you’ll have someone close around who genuinely cares and has a vested interest in you. But when you’re in my shoes, it won’t take long before you’re never appreciating it or treating them right.
In my case, there were two people. Well, just one actual person. But since many of us think of our pets as family, I’ll stick with that.
My maternal grandmother had one sibling: an older sister. I’ll just call her G here. G was in her early 60s when I was born and lived alone across the street from those grandparents. She was divorced and never had children, though I’ve never learned much of a reason why (because out of our immediate family on mom’s side, she’s only comfortable thinking or talking about my negatives or issues, which has always been fun). Anyway, I digress…..
While my grandmother was always there for me, it was G who had that extra energy and spark about having me around. She was “that” relative who spoiled you a little more and listened to you the most when you were a little kid. She was probably overcompensating for her loneliness and lack of own family, but that didn’t matter. Her actions were still real and heartfelt, and I still have fond memories of the little things we’d occasionally do, like walking up the street to get lunch and check out the latest video game (when those were the new big craze in the early ’80s) at the small local restaurant.
Before long though, G started to have crippling arthritis. And it wasn’t long before she was living in a nursing home, where her mostly lonely life played out until she passed away there in her late 70s.
During those years, all of us would have regular visits to see her (not as many as we should’ve, but still). And how did the then antsy teenage me handle them? I just saw them as a task that I wanted to get over with. She still had the same spark in her personality asking about me, but I just didn’t care. There was no compassion.
I know it showed, and I know it had to hurt her. Even though she never let on.
The other example was our family dog. I’d always wanted one, and this pup (call her “Y”) was my 11th birthday present. At the start, I still cared enough and appreciated her. But that didn’t last long. Like everything else (from about age 12 on, when my hurtful teenage years started), I was still distanced. And sometimes didn’t treat her as warmly as I should’ve. Despite how Y was a really good dog.
So when she passed away 17 years later, I felt practically no emotional response to it. Despite how I’ve always had such a soft spot for pets, I was, and always have been, hollowed out. Even about something like that.
What’s worse is that I never even felt very guilty about any of this until more recent years. I was aware of how my reactions to these things were at the time, but I’d never considered much just how heartlessly cold I was.
As you can tell, that has now changed. I look back with shame at how I treated them, and I wish there was a way I could apologize to them. But I can’t.
The only thing I can do is say it now: G and Y, I am really sorry. I only hope that I can take these lessons learned, and never let it happen again with anyone who would genuinely care so much about me. If I do ever have someone else in my life like that, how I treat them will be in honor of you.
You deserve that.
Mister A's domain 