Home That's Never Mine

 I've always been fortunate and privileged enough not to shift houses because my father had already established himself successful in his career by the time I was born and there was no looking back. However, I have lived in multiple houses once I grew up and that was a choice. 

The first time I moved houses was when I was barely 5. When my father decided we deserved to live in a bigger house. The house that was our home was also his, which still holds some fond memories - playing with cousins all the time (what else would a 3-4 year old do), some friendly neighbours, lots of movies and music, cuddles with mom and grandma.... So on and so forth. Strangely, none of my memories from that period features my sister, because she was truly absent from my life. 

And then we moved to this bigger house, where I grew up. It was beautiful, filled with furniture and people, but empty. I barely felt happiness in that house. I had noone to play with, no one to share my happiness and sorrows with... Everyone was busy with their own things and the loneliness eventually made me the spoilt brat which I am not proud of. 

Even though I have lived in that house for over 2 decades, it never felt like mine. It was my parents' and I just couldn't wait to go as far as possible from all of them. That house still remains but it never felt like home, though that's were all the memories reside and strangely keeps popping up in my dreams as my current home. 

Eventually I moved away to another city and has lived in hostels, PGs, shared apartments and even though I have had a ball of a time in some of these places, even they didn't feel like home. They were crashing pads. Nothing else. 

And our current residence. A much smaller space, where my parents have been living for over a decade, and I joined quite a few years ago. This place has a warmth to it, though it is congested with all the furniture from the big house and all that, but I has a calmness that I cannot begin to explain. Maybe because we started living here when we all had evolved to better humans and started accepting each other with our flaws - well, to be honest I don't know whether that explanation is applicable to my parents but I have certainly changed. They are in their last leg of life and I probably have some more of life left to experience, and in this house we have seen the kind of misery we never experienced earlier, but even then, even when it's still my parents' house, it does feel like home. Finally, a place I can call my home. 

I do have a dream of having a space of my own, where I'd thrive, but until that dream becomes a reality, this is home. And I have been treating it that way. Maintaining it, taking care of it. Truth to be told, it took a while to embrace it, but I am glad I did... And it reflects in the quality of life and bond that we share right now. 

Ofcourse there are still times when even this one doesn't feel like mine, but that is momentary. Also, I have come to terms with the fact that, a speck of dust that we are in the cast universe, is there anything that's truly ours????? 

Moving On

 Until recently, death would bother me. Funerals, even more. 

As a professional overthinker, a funeral place firstly reminds me of the time I lost my brother, and it pricks me so deep, the vivid memory of him lying motionless in a glass box... And then other thoughts creep in - the moments that I dread - death of my loved ones.

The bawling, the rants, the pain, the grief - all of them take me to a realm I never want to experience. A gentle reminder that life is unpredictable and death is the only certain thing. That we are all growing old and the people I looked upto growing up, the presence of humans I felt all through my life, all of that is slowly going to fade away. Parents, uncles and aunts, cousins and friends... All of that's gonna go. Slowly, but certainly. 

And that thought and feeling inject and undeniable pain in me, and I have often found myself sobbing in funeral homes of people I have barely known. Until last week.

Last week, I attended a mourning of a relative and to my surprise, after a long 11 years of experiencing grief of what the future beholds, I found myself not experiencing any of that. It's a first in over a decade and it was peaceful. It was just another passing away of a random relative and that was it. No grief, no pain, no overthinking. 

And I am so glad I noticed. No anxiety. No pain. No low mood. No sobbing. Maybe this is what they call healing. Or moving on. And I am glad, I am getting there. Not because I don't fear any of that anymore, but that I am finally getting myself prepared to face it all.