Losing someone is sad all the time. It doesn’t matter that we’re all going to die anyway. Its still sad.
Losing someone you don’t know on the other hand; that’s something. You just hear that some relative died and s(he) was your cousin or uncle or nephew or aunt or whatever and you don’t know what to feel. You want to ask questions but what questions? You didn’t know them, therefore, their death is non of your business. I’ve found myself in this position many times. What is mostly saddening is having to sit through the funeral and all other rituals involved in putting the deceased to rest. I feel the same way Hazel Grace felt at Augustus Waters’ funeral. Almost out of place. I don’t want to be there, but, because of them family ties, I have no choice but to fulfill al righteousness.
I lost a cousin a while back. He was nineteen. Daddy told me. I didn’t know him. We’d met just once at an uncle’s house and I’d hardly call that meeting because when you meet someone, you TRY to talk to the person. Between us that day, there wasn’t so much as a ‘hi’. I remember everything vividly; from how he sounded to what we were wearing. I even remember what was said and it happened so many years ago. When daddy told me he died, I didn’t think about how or why or when he died; I thought ‘did he ever think about me?’. I still ask myself that question. Did he ever think about that day and think to himself ‘and that awkward girl that wore blue tho…’. I didn’t go to that funeral. I was too busy thinking about the fault both our stars had. His didn’t keep him alive long enough to meet this awkward cousin of his and mine? Mine didn’t think I was worth enough to catch his attention so I didn’t bother talking to him. I cried; I cried for a relationship that ended before it started. I cried because I was hurt. I cried because I lost someone I didn’t know. I cried for the fault in our stars…
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