I always thought that it was weird to miss the people you never knew. But it isn’t.
It came to me when I was talking amongst my friends. They were all talking about a cartoon they all used to watch and enjoying the memories they could almost share and have in common. I was jealous, jealous that I missed something that affected them quite so much, and jealous I couldn’t join in. I know this is very petty, but this is what lead my thoughts on.
So many people in my life have died. My grandma to cancer, Mickey to cancer, and Rachel committed suicide, and I’m only fourteen, and they’re only the people I’ve met.
I never met my grandpa (on my mums side) or my grandma (on my dads side). There are lots of others I haven’t met but these I think of most. It’s weird to think that I’m related to so many people, I share their blood, I share their family, their legacy, and I’ll never meet them. I miss them. There aren’t many wise people left to give me advice about life.
What’s worse is, when family memories are being thrown about and I just sit there in silence, as I have none of my own to share. In these instances, someone would usually look at me and say grandpa would of loved you, he always wanted a grand daughter like you, he wanted to spoil you and you’re just like him, there are so many similarities. Well thanks. Give me a taste of what I can never have.
And I know that they’re there but I want them here. With me. Another thing to go on my wish list of the impossible.