Obviously it's the same with family. My father has my respect in bucketfuls. I'd also like to think the feeling's mutual. My mother, obviously, is a different story. Other people in my family have earned it by being who they are. My Welsh grandmother, or Nain, was another respectee. She was always there when I was a child, making treacle toffee and salty roast dinners. She was a typical nain, doing anything she could for her grand-children. She was immensely proud of the opportunity to 'babysit' me and BLS for a few days when I was in my early teens. And technically she was only my step-grandmother. I never knew either my real Nain or my Taid, both sadly passing away before I was born, but this Nain had always been proud of her adopted grandchildren. It was for this reason that her passing away 10 years ago (yes, BLS, it was really that long ago!) greatly affected me. Everytime I visit North Wales, I visit the grave. I try to lay flowers (time allowing), and I clean up the grave, picking out weeds and generally tidying up.
Meanwhile, certain family members who live within a couple of miles don't visit the grave. The grave lays untended, uncared for, and unloved. This not only upsets me immensely, but also makes my respect for her higher. Meanwhile, the relatives' respect is lowered even further. I think it's disgusting that your own family can show such disdain for other fallen family members. Some would argue that death is death, and life goes on. But if we didn't remember our family, our loved ones, then surely we'd all become heartless bastards?
