What's another one?

I've spent a good part of my life saying my goodbyes to people.

My family falls into the overseas worker / first generation immigrant category. Getting here has required severing ties to family and friends who did not have the opportunity to move with me. Yes, I said sever. I've never been good at maintaining correspondence. So I tend to use the fade away technique. Of course, there have been times when banishment has saved me from having to keep in contact. Some of which I am thankful for. Others I regret to my very core.

Over the years, it's gotten easier to accept that the kind of relationships I have are transitory. I was five when I first heard, "Your parents left you with us to find a better job. So you can have a better life." It would not be the last time I would hear it. The tone eventually changed from explanatory to cautionary to condemnation. As I grew older I realized it was usually followed with, "It's not even my job to have to care for you so don't you dare complain." or "It's a good thing your father is sending money or else you'd be out on the street." Sure, I'll have some rice with that salt, thank you.

I always knew I would have to leave one day. So after years endured with my father's family, I jumped at the chance. I made a deal with the devil herself and moved to Chicago with my mother. (After all, she was the reason my nuclear family disintegrated to having parents in two different continents and nannies to look after the children. As two incomes dwindled to one, the nannies got let go and the children got shipped off to the familial home in the province.)

The day of my excommunication isn't one I've forgotten. It was a day when I said goodbye to so many people. The aunts and uncles who warned me, that forgiveness and acceptance would only be given if I would come crawling back, are not ones I look back on fondly. It broke my heart to have to leave my sisters with them. But that is a geographical gap that has been fixed. The existence of love was never an issue with the three of us. I'd like to think it's the same with my father. But until the man considers communicating, things are at a stale mate.

In the last few years, I have gone through an overhaul of friends. It was easier this time around. I said, "Steel yourself, Woman!", and cut the ties with people I no longer care to be associated with. People I cannot stand to be around. People who hurt me. People I, sometimes sadly, have had to write off. People I relegate to memory, as a loved one who has passed away.

Death is a fact of life. It is a time that regrets surface, apologies are belated and memories are ingrained. But as I learned about my grandmother's impending expiration this weekend, I asked my husband if it was normal that I didn't feel much like crying. Am I supposed to be remorseful that I can't shed a tear for a woman I haven't seen in almost a decade? For someone who didn't even remember me as a granddaughter because of a deteriorating mental capacity? For someone who clearly exercised favoritism between her children and grandchildren? So I was on the sacrificial end of it but the fact of the matter is - I have no regrets or apologies for this woman, and my memories of her are ones I'd rather not keep.

I'm sad. I'm going to do what is expected and send money, say a prayer and comfort my sisters. But this is about all I can muster. Am I cold hearted or just a product of emotional evolution? The times I have put myself out there and proposed a reconcilliation have not amounted to much. I wrote them off by saying that I am simply a bad daughter, friend or person. I'm conflicted with whether or not I should make amends now that I have decided to enjoy and appreciate the relationships I have. But should I really bother?