My aunt passed away two days ago. She was an aunt I was not very close to. I suppose because she was rather emotionally distant from us. Even while I was growing up and went to live with her and her sister when my parents were away, I felt more loved by her sister than by her.

My only reaction to the news of her death was 'How am I going to tell Mummy?'. I've been through too much with my mom to ever bear being the bearer of bad news. But luckily, my Aunty Mimi did the job for me. I knew I loved Aunty Mimi for a good reason.

Then on the day of the funeral, what does my idiot sister go and do? She messages me saying that the other sister (the aunt I love and loves me) passed away. My mom was so mad when I told her. My heart even fell for the split second it took my brain to kick in and say 'Being the idiot that she is, she must have gotten it wrong.'

On the other side of the family, my father's uncle is at the last leg of his life as well. He's constantly gasping for breath and doesn't look like he'll last the month. He went to the hospital the same time my aunt was admitted. I suppose the there might be something to the belief that the more bad you do in your lifetime, the more you suffer before the pain ends.

Do I sound heartless? Well, you have to be in my shoes and have gone through what that family has put me through to understand why I cannot care. I've tried. I just cannot find it in my heart to forgive them. I've kept many secrets from my parents about what they did to me. If I tell them, I am afraid of what my father might do. I'm even more scared of what he might not do. So I'd rather not know.

Anyway, that's what's been in my mind the past few days. I'm not whining about it. I'm not complaining. It's just there. And there it will stay.