What attachment do I have left with people over there? My sister-in-law at least told me of her mother's death in a mass email. Nothing after that. I've already summed up the state of my relations with my brothers and mother. There's nothing to say about my father. He might die soon, he might recover. I hope he recovers, but that's a generic sentiment; there's no emotion involved in saying that.
I was being literal when I said that I'm just waiting to die, and they know nothing about my health and they're not asking, nor would I tell. I'm still not carrying my ID with me so if I die outside my apartment, no one's going to notice for months, probably long after the authorities require my John Doe (or whatever is the equivalent here) remains be disposed of.
Personally, I just can't bring myself to care about that or any effect my not caring might have on anyone. Part of me feels this exhibits a severe lack in compassion, but even wanting to develop compassion, this isn't something I can force. It's just not there.
There's no reason for me to ever go back to New Jersey. I can't imagine them asking me to come back for some vacation and my agreeing to it.
In fact, recently I've been wondering why I never pulled a Cindy on my parents. Cindy is my sister-in-law's oldest sister. Cindy is a medical doctor, has a supportive and present husband and two sons who seem to be turning out well in a normative way.
As the story goes, several years ago the mother made a comment on Cindy's weight and something just snapped. Mind you, from what I've seen there is no issue regarding Cindy's weight. But at that point, Cindy cut off all ties and communication with her mother. It was over, done. It wasn't about her weight, that was just a trigger for something long built up between them.
My sister-in-law hasn't always been able to stay out of the cross-fire. Not too long ago, there was some celebration for one of her children and she naively invited both her mother and Cindy, who baked a cake (on top of being a doctor, she's amazing in the kitchen). Apparently she was hoping for some rapprochement without any basis for that hope, and it ended badly. Cindy simply left and my sister-in-law went on her shit list.
When my sister-in-law told me the story, I sided with Cindy. What was she thinking? Since then, I've been open about my support for Cindy. Apparently I understood Cindy in a way that the other sisters struggled with. That aforementioned incident was a matter of respect, and my sister-in-law didn't show respect for either her feelings or experience. Cindy did not go to their mother's funeral.
I, however, had my own relationship with their mother, enough to perform a recitation of the Tibetan Book of the Dead for her after I got the news. It's not a reflection of what I think about their relationship. I don't think anything about their relationship, except that I accept Cindy's subjective view of it. I understand Cindy, but I had my own connection with their mother.
I absolutely don't know anything about the relationship between Cindy and her mother or how my relationship with my parents might be parallel or analogous. One thing I would like to point out is that Cindy did owe her education and career, even possibly any social or family status, to her parents' support.
My parents cannot claim even that. The previous blowout over the phone with my parents was partly about that. I had to spell it out to them that going to law school was the worst thing that ever happened to me. In their ultra-materialistic view of the world, they couldn't even grasp that concept.
I did make a principled decision not to blame them for my going to law school and I emphasized that it was the worst decision I ever made. I don't want that blame towards them in my karma. I want it cut if possible. I take full responsibility for my own life and decisions.
I didn't put any responsibility on them that it was something they pushed on me, even though without them I would never have even thought of going to law school. If they want to accept their role, it's up to them, I couldn't care less whether they do or not. It just is what it is.
The trade off is that whatever decisions I make about my own life now, including ever visiting them again or committing suicide, I really couldn't care less about their opinion or feelings about it. People do what they do, and there are always consequences.
Anyway, with no substantive, meaningful relations with people over there, I also have to let go of my relations with myself and my past. I've left my "relics" over there, but what would they care about any of that?
I guess I previously thought of my parents' house as a repository for my past. All the stuff that meant something to me or represented something of me is there. Photographs, CDs, instruments, books. I always assumed I would die before them and what happens to my stuff is not my issue. If they felt anything about me, they could do what they please with what I left behind.
But with my father's stroke, it becomes clear that they are also nearing death, and something is going to have to be done with my "stuff". And if I outlive them, then people are going to ask me what I want to do with my stuff.
Bottom line, it's all headed for the garbage. No legacy, no future influence. No one would care about what I left behind, or wonder what it meant. The instruments wouldn't be something available to the nieces and nephews if they take up any interest in music. No one there cares about my music collection or the books that were my education about the world. And actually, neither do I.
I was being literal when I said that I'm just waiting to die, and they know nothing about my health and they're not asking, nor would I tell. I'm still not carrying my ID with me so if I die outside my apartment, no one's going to notice for months, probably long after the authorities require my John Doe (or whatever is the equivalent here) remains be disposed of.
Personally, I just can't bring myself to care about that or any effect my not caring might have on anyone. Part of me feels this exhibits a severe lack in compassion, but even wanting to develop compassion, this isn't something I can force. It's just not there.
There's no reason for me to ever go back to New Jersey. I can't imagine them asking me to come back for some vacation and my agreeing to it.
In fact, recently I've been wondering why I never pulled a Cindy on my parents. Cindy is my sister-in-law's oldest sister. Cindy is a medical doctor, has a supportive and present husband and two sons who seem to be turning out well in a normative way.
As the story goes, several years ago the mother made a comment on Cindy's weight and something just snapped. Mind you, from what I've seen there is no issue regarding Cindy's weight. But at that point, Cindy cut off all ties and communication with her mother. It was over, done. It wasn't about her weight, that was just a trigger for something long built up between them.
My sister-in-law hasn't always been able to stay out of the cross-fire. Not too long ago, there was some celebration for one of her children and she naively invited both her mother and Cindy, who baked a cake (on top of being a doctor, she's amazing in the kitchen). Apparently she was hoping for some rapprochement without any basis for that hope, and it ended badly. Cindy simply left and my sister-in-law went on her shit list.
When my sister-in-law told me the story, I sided with Cindy. What was she thinking? Since then, I've been open about my support for Cindy. Apparently I understood Cindy in a way that the other sisters struggled with. That aforementioned incident was a matter of respect, and my sister-in-law didn't show respect for either her feelings or experience. Cindy did not go to their mother's funeral.
I, however, had my own relationship with their mother, enough to perform a recitation of the Tibetan Book of the Dead for her after I got the news. It's not a reflection of what I think about their relationship. I don't think anything about their relationship, except that I accept Cindy's subjective view of it. I understand Cindy, but I had my own connection with their mother.
I absolutely don't know anything about the relationship between Cindy and her mother or how my relationship with my parents might be parallel or analogous. One thing I would like to point out is that Cindy did owe her education and career, even possibly any social or family status, to her parents' support.
My parents cannot claim even that. The previous blowout over the phone with my parents was partly about that. I had to spell it out to them that going to law school was the worst thing that ever happened to me. In their ultra-materialistic view of the world, they couldn't even grasp that concept.
I did make a principled decision not to blame them for my going to law school and I emphasized that it was the worst decision I ever made. I don't want that blame towards them in my karma. I want it cut if possible. I take full responsibility for my own life and decisions.
I didn't put any responsibility on them that it was something they pushed on me, even though without them I would never have even thought of going to law school. If they want to accept their role, it's up to them, I couldn't care less whether they do or not. It just is what it is.
The trade off is that whatever decisions I make about my own life now, including ever visiting them again or committing suicide, I really couldn't care less about their opinion or feelings about it. People do what they do, and there are always consequences.
Anyway, with no substantive, meaningful relations with people over there, I also have to let go of my relations with myself and my past. I've left my "relics" over there, but what would they care about any of that?
I guess I previously thought of my parents' house as a repository for my past. All the stuff that meant something to me or represented something of me is there. Photographs, CDs, instruments, books. I always assumed I would die before them and what happens to my stuff is not my issue. If they felt anything about me, they could do what they please with what I left behind.
But with my father's stroke, it becomes clear that they are also nearing death, and something is going to have to be done with my "stuff". And if I outlive them, then people are going to ask me what I want to do with my stuff.
Bottom line, it's all headed for the garbage. No legacy, no future influence. No one would care about what I left behind, or wonder what it meant. The instruments wouldn't be something available to the nieces and nephews if they take up any interest in music. No one there cares about my music collection or the books that were my education about the world. And actually, neither do I.
