phantom pain

Family is a funny thing. Ever since I was a kid, I found it odd that there was this group of people, seemingly random, whom you were expected to form intimate connections with and sustain fierce loyalty to for no other reason than that you related (belonging to the same family, group, or type). Perhaps it only seems odd because family isn't usually a group you easily connect with, despite (or because of) the time you've spent with each other.

The only thing about my family, at present, which really annoys me is how difficult it is to shift their perceptions of me. I'm sure it's a story which resonates with other people too: go to college, and finally start to realize a shift in ideas, personality, etc. which has begun in high school but remained hidden until now. And then you go home, and everyone treats you exactly the same. And pretty soon, you start acting the same.

This is especially true of my siblings (...I wonder if they read this?). I love 'em to death, but it can be the hardest thing in the world convincing Mason and Christina that I'm not the same kid they've known since I was born. Life, as I said before, is one big life-changing event: but when you're with someone for a very long time, it can be near impossible to see the change in them. And when they're gone for a while and come back, sometimes you fully reject whatever change they've made. For the record, I'm sure I'm guilty of the same thing with both of them, but they have the luxury of not caring about my opinion too much (me being the youngest).

All this to say, family can sometimes be kinda annoying. And it took me a little while to realize why God makes a big deal about loving them so much. It has to do with chance. Or rather, the lack thereof.

When you think about, the one thing in your life you have the absolute least control over is your family. There is nothing I could do, can do, or can ever do to exclude someone from my family. I can try, I can never speak to them again if I wanted, but they're still my family. My parents are always my parents. And if you chalk up who your parents are to chance, I think you're missing something kinda special in all this.

This is one thing in life which you can have no doubt was orchestrated by God.

Obviously, theologically many make the point that everything is orchestrated by God, and in some ways I agree (not today's discussion). But the only force which controlled who your parents were is God - there can be absolutely no argument for any other intervention. So you know that God had a purpose in pairing you with them - and with your siblings. Kinda neat, huh?

All this is precursor to what I wanted to write about: death.

I am a very happy individual, I promise! But for some reason, death has been on the mind leading up to Christmas. It's not quite the right season, but there's not a lot of control over that sort of thing. Death is just...on the mind.

Anyways, I'm staying in Gainesville right now with my grandparents, and earlier today my grandpa was driving me into town to grab a bite to eat. We were casually chatting, and I asked "Papa, how's Granny doing?".

Granny, my great-grandmother, died in March of this year.

Thankfully I only nearly asked this question, as the word "Papa" had just entered my mouth when I startled myself by what I was about to ask. I quickly covered it up, but the feeling stuck with me. Why did I do that? I know Granny is dead...I was at the funeral and everything.

I started thinking about my other great-grandparents, all of whom have passed away. How long did it take me to not casually wonder about them? To actually fully realize they were gone?

Great-grandparents are the closest family I've ever lost, but I think I'm describing, from a distance, "phantom pain" of loss. Phantom pain is that curious phenomenon where your brain thinks it's getting signals from a lost, or sometimes non-existant, body part. Think of a leg amputee, reaching down to scratch an itch which isn't there.

When you lose family, your brain goes on like everything's normal, giving you false signals, because it takes a while to realize that they're gone.

This scares me, actually. This is how I best relate to people who fear commitment, because I can't imagine the pain of committing to someone so strongly that they're like another part of you, firmly and fully attached, and then one day they're just gone. You can't help that feeling with your immediate family, whom you've spent your entire life with. But what about a spouse? Or a close friend? When you actively make someone so much a part of you that they're in your "family", losing them would be amputation.

There's no savvy point today: just kinda what's on my mind.