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A few days ago I received word that a member of my immediate family has died, I received this news without sorrow. There is no mourning of her passing, just relief that she is at last free from pain, she is no longer a burden on those around her but most of all that she no longer manipulates my father.

My reaction to her death surprised me a little, I am someone that has cried many times on reading blogs where family members have been lost, when I read a book or watch a film then I feel pain for those grieving. Even yesterday I shed a tear in the middle of a book when a fictional character lost her fictional sister. I've even been known to cry reading a book about pets that have died - yes watching Bambi was not my best moment ever.
Yet strangely I find myself unmoved by the passing of my own. Does this mean I love her less than others loved their own? Perhaps so. I just know that we had a difficult relationship, and what I do mourn is that she was never able to tell me that anything I ever did was good enough. No matter what went on, nothing was ever acknowledged. When ever we spoke it was always to praise another family member who is in a similar line of work, yet has not had the 'success' I have achieved through sheer determination and hard work. If I were the train driver, then my cousin would be the lady who pushes the tea trolley. Not that there is anything wrong with pushing the tea trolley, just that my strengths, achievements and challenges were never ever noticed never mind praised.

Perhaps this is why I seem to be steeled against feeling any grief at her passing - I never mattered to her.