Another chink in the armour
August 31st 2010 09:47
It was bound to happen. The last of my family's generation of 1920's children has passed away in her sleep, in the confines of a nursing home.
They say it happened the way she wanted it to, in fact the way most of us would want it to. I have not thought about it myself, but being of the generation of 1980's children I would probably feel the need to die for more of a cause.
You know. Making poverty history, having a world without strangers, all that jibe. Something to believe in, without buying into.
And I do feel a bit of a sellout, having long forgone the person the matriarch had wanted and expected me to be. A jazzed up banker who resurrected the jitterbug at nights out with workmates or something similar as one may speculate.
Admittedly it is exactly that with which I would wish to remember her by, an image that I hope never completely shattered her expectations, due to a lack of actualisation. Might have to meet her at the half way mark, with memories of her owning the dance floor even well into her ninth decade.
It certainly makes a difference to the family structure, now that my immediate elders are the eldest in the family. Its one less layer of security, a chink in the armour of the ever multiplying family unit.
Yet it also raises the bar, time for present generations to take the responsibility of leading the group. Leading it further astray maybe, but still leading.
I'll just keep up my misplaced Czechoslovakian Prince routine and see where it gets me, let the rest of the squadron do what they feel. Whether we are living a lie or living the life, we're still alive.
Salut, Saude, Salute, and Cheers.
They say it happened the way she wanted it to, in fact the way most of us would want it to. I have not thought about it myself, but being of the generation of 1980's children I would probably feel the need to die for more of a cause.
You know. Making poverty history, having a world without strangers, all that jibe. Something to believe in, without buying into.
And I do feel a bit of a sellout, having long forgone the person the matriarch had wanted and expected me to be. A jazzed up banker who resurrected the jitterbug at nights out with workmates or something similar as one may speculate.
Admittedly it is exactly that with which I would wish to remember her by, an image that I hope never completely shattered her expectations, due to a lack of actualisation. Might have to meet her at the half way mark, with memories of her owning the dance floor even well into her ninth decade.
It certainly makes a difference to the family structure, now that my immediate elders are the eldest in the family. Its one less layer of security, a chink in the armour of the ever multiplying family unit.
Yet it also raises the bar, time for present generations to take the responsibility of leading the group. Leading it further astray maybe, but still leading.
I'll just keep up my misplaced Czechoslovakian Prince routine and see where it gets me, let the rest of the squadron do what they feel. Whether we are living a lie or living the life, we're still alive.
Salut, Saude, Salute, and Cheers.
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