Disclaimer: Today’s entry touches upon a more personal issue than usual entries. Please read with an open mind.
Too often, I read stories (real life, no doubt) about how people had neglected their relationships with loved ones, only to have their loved ones pass away/die suddenly in the end. The people who neglected the relationships, they were taking the relationships for granted, thinking “I’m too busy, but they’ll always be there when I’m not busy.”
It’s sad to say, it happens a lot, since I continue to find stories like this strewn across the magazines I read and on the Internet.
We, as humans, are all guilty of this feeling. Even I am, with the death of my paternal grandmother almost ten years ago. Even though so much time has passed, I still feel guilt over how I was acting on the very last day she was alive. I was just a young teenager, sure; just wanted to spend more time with my friends, all of whom I don’t even talk to in the present time. My mother had to practically drag me to my grandparents’ house that day so I could pay a visit to my ailing grandmother. It wasn’t that I disliked my grandmother; I loved her very dearly. Yet, seeing her sick, bed-ridden–it was a pain that I wanted to try to avoid, to try to mask myself from.
So, on that day, even though I was there to visit her, I was in denial of her health, the preciousness of her life. I wanted to avoid the thought. I thought to myself, “She’ll be better soon.” And I took for granted the time that I had left with her.
The next morning, my father told me how my grandmother had passed away the previous night, after having another stroke.
At that point, I tried so hard in vain to make up for the time that was lost between my grandmother and I. In the final months of her life, I spent little time with her due to my denial, but also due to my being “too busy” with marching band, school, etc. Even though I was only a young teenager at that point, I was still thinking then–“I’m too busy.”
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What goes around, comes around.
I find myself these days, feeling worse and worse about a lot of things in my life. I fear my health is failing in many ways, and I try to reach out for help. However, over the years, I have pushed away many friendships, many people who wanted to help me. But I kept saying, “I’m okay” and let the people go their way.
The few friends I have kept around, we, in turn, have taken each other for granted. Right now, I feel thoroughly neglected by the few I had thought were my closest friends. The other day, after feeling a horribly emotional low, I tried contacting those friends to seek comfort, solace.
Nobody answered, and even though one did, they said they could not talk, because they were “too busy”.
It was like a knife through my already bleeding heart. Here, I find myself left alone, with nobody to lean upon. And the thought continues to eat away at me–what if, suddenly, something happened to me? Would anyone care? Would anyone regret?
“I’m too busy.”
Saying this to someone in need is essentially an emotional murder. How come we, as humans, continue to do such a thing to one another? We say we love, we say we care, yet when the ones we love need us the most, we say “No” and go on with our own lives. Why?
