A Person Gone

One more down. An uncle just died. Quite unexpectedly, although he suffered a fall recently. But who would have thought a broken hip was automatically the next stop before terminus?

And you get this huge feeling of insecurity. What is life, anyway? Including your own? A breath, a suspense, an idea?

One tends to consider the people one is surrounded with as a natural backdrop. And they sort of are there when you need them; it’s comforting and calming to know that you’re not alone in this world. On the contrary, you are part of this intricate web of lifes and personalities. But then people drop from the scene, and you understand that the different parts of the décor all have its lifespan and that the only one to rely on should be yourself. As long as you can.

It’s angering, frustrating and scary.

A person’s gone. That person may have been part of your surroundings as long as you can remember. A fixed reference in your universe. And nonetheless even when you didn’t see that person on a regular basis. An integrated part of the scene you were born into and you carry each others stories and memories in this life. Until someone disappears from the scene and leaves a gap, questions without answers, unreturned feelings and a shattered identity.

And it hurts. Each time somebody goes away. Each time to a different degree, but it hurts.