Not reallly; I’ve never lost someone whose absence from my life has impacted it in any way whatsoever. Most of the time when some family member dies I’m like, “Great, their suffering is over.” I’m happy for them.
I don’t think this makes me a sociopath or anything; to the contrary, I strongly empathize with the living. I hate to see people suffering unless they really, really deserve it. And even then, I’d rather see some human piece of garbage like a child molester, for instance, be dispatched quickly and humanely. I wouldn’t derive any pleasure in “hanging someone from their balls” or “sticking a hot poker in their ass” or whatever it is people think about in their revenge fantasies. A bullet to the brain will do just fine, thanks. Maybe a brutal bludgeoning with a blunt object if the situation calls for it.
But I digress… I had an uncle hang himself once. I was quite fond of him, but I didn’t see him more than once a year or so, and so it didn’t really affect my day-to-day routine. When my grandparents on my mother’s side died, I was probably in third and fourth grade and I didn’t really give two shits about it. They were two old people I saw every once in awhile that complained about things that old people complain about, like blacks and people “shacking up” before they got married. Ho hum. Cycle of life.
I loved my grandmother on my father’s side who died a couple years ago; however, her brain was so eaten up by Alzheimer’s that her passing was a tremendous relief; I couldn’t stand to see her the way she was. So I was sad, but not devastated. There was some happiness there.
If my wife were to die, that would seriously fuck up my life. I would grieve, I would cry, I would become a bitter, hateful asshole…Why? Because she is close to me, I see her every day, she’s a part of my “routine.” Her absence would be tangible. Just like pets; when one of my dogs or cats dies, it destroys a little piece of my soul.
Anyway, these are just some random thoughts that popped into my head when I woke up this morning.