"You'll never live if you are looking for the meaning of life," a quote by Camus that I often remember. The air smelled like medicine. I was standing outside a hospital room, holding my father's hand. He was holding back his tears. All my other relatives were crying nonstop. I didn't like the sound of people's cries. They were too loud. My mother had died of a brain tumour. The doctor told us that it had grown too big to be removable. I couldn't understand why they were crying so much. I didn't feel like crying. I felt nothing.
Some of my relatives seemed to be unsettled by my 'emotionless' expression, as some of them described.
"He's mother just died. How is he not grieving?" my aunt said.
"He's just 12 years old. He doesn't understand it yet," my father replied to her.
Death is a natural occurrence. Every living creature dies. I understood that fact. I was old enough for that.
Ever since that day, my father has taken care of me. He'd buy me all the books I needed or wanted. He admitted me to Lockeville Technical High School because it's coeducational and has great facilities. So, he thought it would help me get along with others better and learn better.